Five minutes later the girl was back at his side. But she had not returned alone. Bud was with her, and together they bent over the prostrate form. The girl was kneeling. She had gently taken possession of one of the bandaged hands lying inert at the man's side. Tenderly enough she held it between her own soft palms and chafed it, while her shining eyes, yielding all the secrets of her devoted heart, gazed yearningly down into his. "Jeff!" she murmured, in a low, eager tone. "Jeff!" There was no response. The eyes were fixed and staring. Bud had less scruples in his anxious impatience. "Say, that ain't no sort o' way to wake him, Nan," he whispered hoarsely. Then in his deep gruff voice he displayed his better understanding. "Say, Jeff! You ken hear me, boy. You're jest foolin'. Say, hark to this. You beat 'em. You beat 'em single-handed, an' shot 'em plumb down." Curiously enough there was almost instant result, and Bud's satisfaction became evident. The staring eyes relaxed their regard of the starry heavens. The lids flickered, then the eyes themselves turned in the direction whence came those sonorous tones. "You ken hear?" Bud's words came on the instant, and were full of triumph. Then he turned to the girl who had promptly relinquished Jeff's hand. "We ain't got a thing to hand him, 'cep' it's water," he said half-angrily. "We can't jest move him, not nothin', till the boys git along with the wagon, an' that blamed dope merchant gits around. What in hell ken we do?" "Wait." Nan's finality robbed her father of his complaint. "Guess we'll hev to. Say----" "Yes?" "Do you guess he ken talk if he feels that way?" But Nan was no longer giving him any attention. All her thoughts, all her being was for the man before them. A faint tinge of color was creeping under his skin, up to the soft white wrapping fastened about his fire-scorched forehead. Even in the starlight it was plainly visible to the girl's eager eyes. There was something else, too. The look in his eyes had completely changed. To Nan there was something approaching the shadow of a smile. She moved close to his side so that she could reach out and give him support. Then she gave the father at her side his orders. "Get water, Dad--quick!" she demanded. Bud demurred. "I only got my hat," he said helplessly. "It'll do. But get it." Bud moved away, with the heavy haste of two hundred and ten pounds of mental disturbance. The moment he had gone a faint sigh escaped the injured man. Nan held her breath. Would he--speak? She would give worlds to hear the sound of his voice, She had believed him dying. Now a wild hope surged. If he would--could speak, it seemed to her simple logic that he must--live. "Nan!" The word was distinct, but, oh, the weakness of voice. The girl thrilled. "Yes, Jeff. I'm here. I'm right beside you." "Tell me--things."