The Kid, wrinkling his nose, and jabbering unintelligibly at her, so that four tiny teeth showed in his pink mouth, moved farther backward, and sat down violently under the horse's sweat-roughened belly. He wriggled round so that he faced forward, reached out gleefully, caught the front fetlocks, and cried “Dup!” while he pulled. The Little Doctor turned white. “He's all right,” soothed Andy, and, leaning with a twist of his slim body, caught the Kid firmly by the back of his pink dress, and lifted him clear of danger. He came up with a red face, tossed the Kid into the eager arms of the Little Doctor, and soothed his horse with soft words and a series of little slaps upon the neck. He was breathing unevenly, because the Kid had really been in rather a ticklish position; but the Little Doctor had her face hidden on the baby's neck and did not see. “Where's Chip?” Andy turned to ride back to the stable, glancing toward the telegram lying on the floor of the porch; and from it his eyes went to the young woman trying to laugh away her trembling while she scolded adoringly her adventurous man-child. He was about to speak again, but thought better of it, and sighed. “Down at the stables somewhere--I don't know, really; the boys can tell you. Mother's baby mustn't touch the naughty horses. Naughty horses hurt mother's baby! Make him cry!” Andy gave her a long look, which had in it much pity, and rode away. He knew what was in that telegram, for the agent had told him when he hunted him up at Rusty Brown's and gave it to him; and the horse of Andy bore mute testimony to the speed with which he had brought it to the ranch. Not until he had reached the coulee had he slackened his pace. He decided, after that glance, that he would not remind her that she had not read the telegram; instead, he thought he ought to find Chip immediately and send him to her. Chip was rummaging after something in the store-house, and, when Andy saw him there, he dismounted and stood blotting out the light from the doorway. Chip looked up, said “Hello” carelessly, and flung an old slicker aside that he might search beneath it. “Back early, aren't you?” he asked, for sake of saying something. Andy's attitude was not as casual as he would have had it. “Say, maybe you better go on up to the house,” he began diffidently. “I guess your wife wants to see yuh, maybe.” “Just as a good wife should,” grinned Chip. “What's the matter? Kid fall off the porch?” “N-o-o--I brought out a wire from Chicago. It's from a doctor there--some hospital. The--Old Man got hurt. One of them cussed automobiles knocked him down. They want you to come.” Chip had straightened up and was hooking at Andy blankly. “If you're just--” “Honest,” Andy asserted, and flushed a little. “I'll go tell some one to catch up the team--you'll want to make that 11:20, I take it.” He added, as Chip went by him hastily, “I had the agent wire for sleeper berths on the 11:20 so--”