He quitted his boulder and went forward, but very slowly now. Memories of Sunset, memories of Mollie, were tugging at his heart-strings. All at once, breaking in upon the silence in which he moved, he heard his name called, and turning, was again gladdened by the sight of Mr. Bunny, who was coming along the trail at a brisk run. “Say, pardner,” he panted, when he had gained a place at Johnny's side, “would you be willing to help a fellow creature in distress? Oh, not me,—a fellow named Graham; a intimate friend of mine, and a fellow in the hardest sort of luck. It'd make a wooden Indian shed tears to hear his hard-luck story; and he's met with a accident. Say, you're a western man,—I reckon you wouldn't turn your back on no fellow being in real eighteen-carat distress the way Bob Graham is!” “What's the matter of him?” asked Johnny, with a striking lack of interest. “One thing, he's got a hurt leg; spraint it on these here rocks and he's sufferin' something awful. But what he's sufferin' in his spraint leg ain't a circumstance to what he's sufferin' in his mind. You bet you, that's what gets a fellow every time! I know, 'cause I know what I went through with when that brunette throwed me down in Albuquerque after getting all my coin. I don't pose as no blighted being, but say, it was agony—yes, sir, agony!” “Is this the fellow you were telling me about first? Look here, Bunny, you began pleasant enough with a grub-stake, and now I'm hearing all about a spraint leg,” said Johnny. “Well, what's to keep a man from having a grub-stake and a spraint leg simultaneous? You come with me, and I'll show you Bob Graham who's got both.” “Huh!” said Johnny. “I can't tell you all Bob's story, but there's a woman into it, his wife,—yes, sir. Say, talk about throw-downs! Why, he's got yours and mine beat to a pulp. Ain't it tough the way women do?—how they show you the high places and then give you the laugh? Say, Mr. Severance, there was reasons why I couldn't give it to you straight about Bob without consulting him. If you feel afraid of anything——” “What of?” demanded Johnny quickly. “Durned if I know, but some people are timider than others,” said Bunny, with an oblique glance. “You show me this friend of yours,” said Johnny. Mr. Bunny led the way back down the trail to the point where Johnny had previously seen him disappear. They climbed a hill and entered a small bottom. Here, prone on his back and gazing peacefully up at the hot sky, was a gentleman of singularly unprepossessing exterior. When aware that his solitude was being invaded he uttered sundry heartrending groans and fell to nursing his right leg, which was elaborately bandaged in strips torn from a blanket. “Sh—” said Bunny, over his shoulder to Johnny. “Sh—ain't it pitiful?” The groans were continued with increasing vigor. “Bob!” whispered Mr. Bunny. “Bob,—old pardner!” “Is that you, Bunny? I reckon I must have fell asleep,” said the sufferer weakly.