At close sight of Bo Helen uttered a startled cry. Bo was white; her sombrero was gone and her hair undone; there were blood and dirt on her face, and her riding-suit was torn and muddy. She had evidently sustained a fall. Roy gazed at her in admiring consternation, but Carmichael never looked at her at all. Apparently he was examining the horse. “Well, help me off--somebody,” cried Bo, peremptorily. Her voice was weak, but not her spirit. Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it developed that she was lame. “Oh, Bo! You've had a tumble,” exclaimed Helen, anxiously, and she ran to assist Roy. They led her up the porch and to the door. There she turned to look at Carmichael, who was still examining the spent mustang. “Tell him--to come in,” she whispered. “Hey, there, Las Vegas!” called Roy. “Rustle hyar, will you?” When Bo had been led into the sitting-room and seated in a chair Carmichael entered. His face was a study, as slowly he walked up to Bo. “Girl, you--ain't hurt?” he asked, huskily. “It's no fault of yours that I'm not crippled--or dead or worse,” retorted Bo. “You said the south range was the only safe ride for me. And there--I--it happened.” She panted a little and her bosom heaved. One of her gauntlets was gone, and the bare band, that was bruised and bloody, trembled as she held it out. “Dear, tell us--are you badly hurt?” queried Helen, with hurried gentleness. “Not much. I've had a spill,” replied Bo. “But oh! I'm mad--I'm boiling!” She looked as if she might have exaggerated her doubt of injuries, but certainly she had not overestimated her state of mind. Any blaze Helen had heretofore seen in those quick eyes was tame compared to this one. It actually leaped. Bo was more than pretty then. Manifestly Roy was admiring her looks, but Carmichael saw beyond her charm. And slowly he was growing pale. “I rode out the south range--as I was told,” began Bo, breathing hard and trying to control her feelings. “That's the ride you usually take, Nell, and you bet--if you'd taken it to-day--you'd not be here now.... About three miles out I climbed off the range up that cedar slope. I always keep to high ground. When I got up I saw two horsemen ride out of some broken rocks off to the east. They rode as if to come between me and home. I didn't like that. I circled south. About a mile farther on I spied another horseman and he showed up directly in front of me and came along slow. That I liked still less. It might have been accident, but it looked to me as if those riders had some intent. All I could do was head off to the southeast and ride. You bet I did ride. But I got into rough ground where I'd never been before. It was slow going. At last I made the cedars and here I cut loose, believing I could circle ahead of those strange riders and come round through Pine. I had it wrong.”