A rounded mass of rock, fallen in ages past from the cliffs above, blocked her path, and mechanically the girl reined Freckles around it. An instant later the horse stopped of his own accord, and the girl found herself staring down with horror-stricken eyes at the body of a man stretched out on the further side of the boulders. Motionless he lay there, a long length of brown chaps and torn, disordered shirt. His face was hidden in his crooked arms; the tumbled mass of brown hair was matted with ominous dark clots. But in that single, stricken second Mary Thorne knew whom she had found. "Oh!" she choked, fighting desperately against a wave of faintness that threatened to overwhelm her. "O-h!" Slowly the man's face lifted, and two bloodshot eyes regarded her dully through a matted lock of hair that lay stiffly plastered against his forehead. With a curious, stealthy movement, one hand twisted back to his side and fumbled there for an instant. Then the man groaned softly. "I forgot," he mumbled. "It's gone. You--you've got me this time, I reckon." Face drained to paper-white and lips quivering, Mary Thorne slid out of her saddle, steadied herself against the horse for a second, and then dropped on her knees beside him. "Buck!" she cried in a shaking voice. "You--you're hurt! What--what is it?" A puzzled look came into his face, and as he stared into the wide, frightened hazel eyes so close to his, recognition slowly dawned. "You!" he muttered. "What--How--" She twined her fingers together to stop their trembling. "I was riding through the pass," she told him briefly. "I saw your horse and I--I was--afraid--" A faint gleam came into the bloodshot eyes. "My--my horse? You mean a--a Rocking-R cayuse?" "Yes." He tried to sit up, but the effort turned him so white that the girl cried out protestingly. "You mustn't. You're badly hurt. I--I'll ride back for help." She sprang to her feet. "But first I must get you water." He stared at her as one regards a desert mirage. "Water!" he repeated unbelievingly. "You know where--If you could--" A sudden moisture dimmed her eyes, but she winked it resolutely back. "There's a little spring the other side of the trail," she explained. "You lie quietly and I'll be back in just a minute." Stumbling in her haste, she turned and ran past the buttress and on toward the trail. Not a hundred feet beyond, a tiny spring bubbled up in the rocks, and dropping down beside it, the girl jerked the pins from her hat and let the cool water trickle into the capacious crown of the Stetson. It seemed to take an eternity to fill, but at length the water ran over the brim, and carefully guarding her precious burden, she hurried back again.