“Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?” queried Dale, more seriously. “We will, if each of us has to carry one of the girls. But they'll do it or die. Dale, did you ever see a gamer girl than thet kid Bo?” “Me! Where'd I ever see any girls?” ejaculated Dale. “I remember some when I was a boy, but I was only fourteen then. Never had much use for girls.” “I'd like to have a wife like that Bo,” declared Roy, fervidly. There ensued a moment's silence. “Roy, you're a Mormon an' you already got a wife,” was Dale's reply. “Now, Milt, have you lived so long in the woods thet you never heard of a Mormon with two wives?” returned Roy, and then he laughed heartily. “I never could stomach what I did hear pertainin' to more than one wife for a man.” “Wal, my friend, you go an' get yourself ONE. An' see then if you wouldn't like to have TWO.” “I reckon one 'd be more than enough for Milt Dale.” “Milt, old man, let me tell you thet I always envied you your freedom,” said Roy, earnestly. “But it ain't life.” “You mean life is love of a woman?” “No. Thet's only part. I mean a son--a boy thet's like you--thet you feel will go on with your life after you're gone.” “I've thought of that--thought it all out, watchin' the birds an' animals mate in the woods.... If I have no son I'll never live hereafter.” “Wal,” replied Roy, hesitatingly, “I don't go in so deep as thet. I mean a son goes on with your blood an' your work.” “Exactly... An', Roy, I envy you what you've got, because it's out of all bounds for Milt Dale.” Those words, sad and deep, ended the conversation. Again the rumbling, rushing stream dominated the forest. An owl hooted dismally. A horse trod thuddingly near by and from that direction came a cutting tear of teeth on grass. A voice pierced Helen's deep dreams and, awaking, she found Bo shaking and calling her. “Are you dead?” came the gay voice. “Almost. Oh, my back's broken,” replied Helen. The desire to move seemed clamped in a vise, and even if that came she believed the effort would be impossible. “Roy called us,” said Bo. “He said hurry. I thought I'd die just sitting up, and I'd give you a million dollars to lace my boots. Wait, sister, till you try to pull on one of those stiff boots!” With heroic and violent spirit Helen sat up to find that in the act her aches and pains appeared beyond number. Reaching for her boots, she found them cold and stiff. Helen unlaced one and, opening it wide, essayed to get her sore foot down into it. But her foot appeared swollen and the boot appeared shrunken. She could not get it half on, though she expended what little strength seemed left in her aching arms. She groaned. Bo laughed wickedly. Her hair was tousled, her eyes dancing, her cheeks red. “Be game!” she said. “Stand up like a real Western girl and PULL your boot on.”