When he again beheld the sun, a girl was kneeling beside him, a girl with dark, troubled eyes. She offered him wine from a wicker jug. He drank and felt better. "Are you hurt badly?" she asked. "Am--I--all here?" queried Sundown. "I guess so. You seem to be." "Was anybody else killed in the wreck?" The girl smiled. "You're feeling better. Let me help you to sit up." Sundown for the moment felt disinclined to move. He was in fact pretty thoroughly used up. "Say, did he win?" he queried finally. "Who?" "Me dog, Chance. I got the start at first, but he kind of got ahead for a spell." "I don't know. Chance is right behind you. He's out of breath." "Huh! Reckon I'm out more'n that. He's in luck this trip." "How did it happen?" "That's what I'm wonderin', lady. And say, would you be so kind as to tell me which way is north?" Despite her solicitude for the recumbent Sundown, Eleanor Loring laughed. "You are in one of the sheep-camps. I'm Eleanor Loring." "Sheep-camp? Gee Gosh! Did you stop me?" "Yes. I was just riding into camp when you--er--arrived. I headed the steer back and Fernando cut the rope." "Thanks, miss. And Fernando is wise to his business, all right." "Can you sit up now?" she asked. "Ow! I guess I can. That part of me wasn't expectin' to be moved sudden-like. How'd I get under these trees?" "Fernando carried you." "Well, little old Fernando is some carrier. Where is he? I wouldn't mind shakin' hands with that gent." "He's out after the sheep. The steer stampeded them." "Well, miss, speakin' from me heart--that there steer was no lady. I thought she was till I roped him. I was mistook serious." "He might have killed you. Let me help you up." Sundown had been endeavoring to get to his feet. Finally he rose and leaned against a tree. Fortunately for him his course had been over a stretch of yielding bunch-grass, and not, as might have been the case, over the ragged tufa. As it was his shirt hung from his back in shreds, and he felt that his overalls were not all that their name implied. The numbness of his abrasions and bruises was wearing off. The pain quickened his senses. He realized that his hat was missing, that one spur was gone and the other was half-way up his leg. He was not pleased with his appearance, and determined to "make a slope" as gracefully and as quickly as circumstances would permit. Chance, gnawing at a burr that had stuck between his toes, saw his master rise. He leaped toward Sundown and stood waiting for more fun. "Chance seems all right now," said the girl, patting the dog's head. "John Corliss give him to me, miss. He's my dog now. Yes, he's active all right, 'specially chasin' steers." "I remember you. You're the man that carried Chance up the canon trail that day when he was hurt." "Yes, miss. He ain't forgettin' either."