“Pine Croft Ranch sweeps up over those hills on the left,” said Paul, “and about five miles down the river. Every mile, every yard, is dear to me, how dear I never knew till this moment. Do you wonder I love it?” “Paul,” said Dalton slowly, “I’d spend my last dollar if necessary in helping you to redeem it. We will get that old robber and make him come through. Never fear.” “Let’s go,” shouted Paul, digging his spurs into his nag. “Hurrah! I’m with you,” cried Dalton, and down the long incline they sped at a perilous pace. A perilous pace it proved for Paul, for at a little dry waterway his beast struck some loose stones, stumbled and pitched headlong, hurling Paul far before him, head first, upon the stony road, where he lay in a huddled heap. Dalton hastened to him, laid him out upon his back and proceeded to put into operation such methods of resuscitation as he had often practised on the football field. But there was no response from the unconscious Paul. “Good Lord!” he cried, looking wildly about. “He’s dead.” He sprang to his feet, caught his horse, and was about to mount, with the idea of seeking help at the Pine Croft Ranch, when he heard the sound of horse hoofs and, turning, saw coming down a line which they had passed a rider cantering toward the road. With his fingers to his lips he sent forth a piercing whistle and stood waving at the rider, who immediately swung into a gallop. “A girl, by Jove!” he said to himself. “And a corker.” “An accident, eh?” she inquired, leaping from her horse. “Why, it’s Paul!” The girl flung herself down by him and took his head into her lap. “Oh, is he dead?” she cried, lifting a pale and terror-stricken face to Dalton. “Here! Why do you stand gawking there? Get water.” “Where(?” gasped Dalton, gazing about wildly. “Follow that lane to a well and bring a bucketful. And for Heaven’s sake move!” Flinging himself on his horse, Dalton followed the direction pointed out, found the well and a bucket standing beside it and dashed back with the bucket half full of water. A dash of water in his face, a deep sobbing breath, and Paul opened his eyes, gazed without recognition at the face hanging over him and closed them again. “Paul! Oh, Paul!” cried the girl in an ecstasy of fear. “Speak to me! Don’t you know me?” Again Paul opened his eyes, let them rest a moment on the girl’s face, then said with a quiet smile, “Hello, Adelina!” “Oh, Paul,” cried the girl, drawing up his head to her breast, while the tears came flowing from her eyes, “I was afraid you were dead.” Her voice seemed to arouse him. “Dead! What’s wrong with me?” he said, sitting up and swaying stupidly. “Lie still,” ordered Adelina sharply. “Don’t move for a few minutes.” “I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Dalton. Adelina caught the look which Paul flashed up at his friend. Her face flushed scarlet, but Dalton remained gravely serene. “You stay there where you are till I tell you to move,” commanded Adelina imperiously.