At last she uncovered the outer edge. A little more digging along the thin side and again under the sleeve, then she set her hands, the strength of her young arms to the rock. It eased up slightly. She put her knee to it, bracing it while she tugged at the coat. It slipped a trifle. Again a lift, a wrench, a slip, and here was a pocket exposed, and in it she found the small metal flask; jammed, flattened, leaking a little, but holding, still, brandy. She poured it hot between his lips, and presently he again opened his eyes. "I’m all right," he repeated, "yes—I am. Don’t trouble; don’t stay here—in the rain. I can wait for Thornton or—Myers. I’m all—right." To prove the point he tried to get to his elbow, but settled back, going white again to the lips. She turned her face away. Her eyes were dry, but the dread in them was beyond tears. After a moment she compelled her glance to meet his. Her lips moved, but the iron hand again seemed to strangle the words in her throat. "Is it"—they were out at last—"is it—your—back?" "No, oh, no." He smiled his old smile of the eyes. "It’s only a dislocated shoulder. With Thornton to help me it won’t take long to straighten it out." She returned to that second limb. "Dear God," she still prayed, "I am so afraid. But—if it is hurt—don’t let it be past help." Aloud she said, and steadied her voice, "Mill was to have gone to the Station this morning." "Of course—of course—I had forgotten. I left Ketchem for him last night. But Myers is somewhere here in the hills." "Then the noise of the slide should bring him this way." She thrust the scoop carefully along the side of the uncovered knee. "Mose," she added, "went home with his father, yesterday, to help drive the sheep to high ground. Sheep"—her voice broke—"sheep—are so foolish—in a flood." She laid the scoop down. There was no further need of digging; the leg was doubled back from the knee, in a heap. She got to her feet and turned, meeting his look again bravely. "You see," she said and smiled, "there isn’t a man; you’ll have to use me. What would you have asked Mill to do?" "Why, set this arm. You could do it—it’s simple—but I don’t like to ask it of you. You take it—like this"—he reached and she knelt beside him to allow him to demonstrate with hers,—"and pull it out as far as you can—so—only harder—much harder. It’s going to hurt some, I’ll probably make a fuss, but never mind—pull. Then let it settle back into the shoulder socket—so. You’ve seen the round bone that fits in a shoulder of veal. Well, just think of that." "I understand the—movement," she said, and steadied her voice again, "and I’m—str-o-ong. I’ll do my best."