"Oh," said Alice, "you mean Sir Donald. I had forgotten. Mr. Myers, you came down-stream. Did you see Mr. Stratton near the ford?" "Did I see him?" Eben smiled his wide smile. "Well, no. Ef I had, I jedge I’d er took him." "I saw him." Forrest’s brows contracted; the line between them grew black. "He was up there at the tower, but the slide left him safe." "And you," she exclaimed, "you tried to stop Sir Donald." "Yes. Stratton was unhorsed; that’s all. Now, Eben," he added, turning a little and reaching for the settler’s hand, "now, your shoulder, please; here, at the armpit. So." Alice ran to the black’s head. It was miserable. Miserable. He closed his teeth hard over that white nether lip, but the groan would out. And, up in the saddle, his shoulders sagged forward. He could have buried his face on those old familiar withers, and cried. But he pulled himself together; for the sake of this brave girl, who had worked so tirelessly for him, who moved, now, ahead of him, pushing down the encroaching salal, smoothing the way through tangles of hazel and fern, he must hold himself in check. And presently the agony eased a little. He could look about him; he was able to identify that stake, to which Alice called his attention, while she led the horse carefully by. Then, after another moment, he assured Eben that he could ride well enough, and urged him to go on to the Station and hurry that telegram through. Afterwards he could come back with Thornton and beat the timber for Stratton. Mill would be the one to take that chestnut; he was a good man with a horse. But all this did not deceive Alice. Her eyes were too accustomed to every light and shade of Forrest’s face; she knew each fluctuation of his voice. Still, though she understood, she made no sign. She talked sometimes, to carry her part, but oftener she moved in silence her hand on Colonel’s bridle, watching his steps. And so they passed out of the park and into the trail above the knoll. Then, suddenly, his strength reached low ebb. He dipped forward to the black’s neck. She sprang to support him. "Paul, Paul," she encouraged, and raised herself a-tiptoe on a bit of higher ground, to bring her shoulder against him in a bracing lift; "you mustn’t let yourself go! It’s only a little farther; don’t you hear the falls? Paul, Paul, we’re almost—home." He roused himself a little, and looked at her. "Paul Forrest," she said sharply, "_be a—man_." He flushed, catching the taunt, and with a mighty effort, both hands on the saddle horn, forced himself erect. Her eyes, dark with entreaty, across her shoulder met his. "You see, Paul—dear," her lip trembled, "if you should fall—I—could never put you up—alone." "I won’t fall." He gripped the bridle. "Don’t be afraid—I won’t. But I hear a stream somewhere—close—and I’m—thirsty." "It’s here, the tiniest rill, at the bend. Hold Colonel, if you can, just a moment."