West reached the frightened horse, now struggling wildly, in time to save the man from being kicked to death. The foot had been wrenched from the stirrup, and the man lay silent and motionless upon the ground. When Bess reached the spot she sprang from her horse and hastened forward to be of assistance. “I cannot see how anyone who knows a horse could possibly have such an accident,” West was saying, as if to himself. “The horse surely could not have seen a ‘rattler,’ as it is too early for them; and, besides, I have never seen one down on this flat. Looks to me like confounded carelessness!” “Oh, is he hurt?” she inquired, but West had mounted Mauchacho and was speeding to the stream. Bess lifted the bruised and bleeding head into her lap. As she carefully wiped the dirt from the eyes and face she discovered to her surprise that it was the same Mr. Davis whom she had only met the evening before on the train at Selish. “See—look!” she exclaimed excitedly, as West returned, his hat dripping with the water it contained. “It is Mr. Davis!” Henry West nearly spilled the precious liquid. His eyes flashed with hatred, and his teeth clenched so hard that she could scarcely hear his words. “You—know—that—that—devil!” Bess was so confounded at the look of enmity and hate that she turned pale with fear. The next moment, with trembling hands, she was helping Henry West to resuscitate the unconscious man. Cool, dripping handkerchiefs bathed his brow and temples. Upon examining the foot which had caused so much mischief, West saw that it was swelling rapidly, and soon dexterous fingers had unfastened the laces and were tenderly removing the shoe. All the passion was gone from his face, leaving it pale and anxious. Again he hastened to the stream, quickly returning with the hat filled with water. How they worked, these two! Perspiration streamed from their faces as they chafed his arms and hands and bathed the bruised and swollen ankle. Once they caught a fleeting twitch of the eyelids, and, encouraged by the knowledge that there was still life, they renewed all their efforts. Suddenly West put his hand upon the man’s breast, Bess thought to feel his heart beats, but instantly she understood as he drew a flask from the inside of the coat. West forced the lips apart and succeeded in pouring some of the brandy into Davis’ mouth. The effect was almost instantaneous. The eyelids fluttered and a groan of torture escaped the lips. Again he relapsed into unconsciousness, but for only a few minutes, for soon he opened his eyes and looked into the girl’s face. Then a spasm of pain contracted his face frightfully, and even West turned aside that he might not see. They gave him more of the brandy, which seemed to strengthen the man, and also made the suffering, for the moment at least, less acute. Not a word had they spoken since that first moment.