And so the hours dragged. The men lounged in the shade of the trees and talked; Langford--though he had no further excuse for staying--remained, concealing his impatience over Allen's inaction by taking short rides, but always returning; Allen, taciturn, morose even, paid no attention to him. The afternoon waned; the sun descended to the peaks of the mountains, and there was still inaction on Allen's part, still silence from the cabin. Just at sundown Allen called his men to him and told them to guard the cabin closely, not to shoot unless forced by Dakota, but to be certain that he did not escape. He said they might expect him to return by dawn of the following morning. Then, during Langford's absence on one of his rides, he loped his pony up the river trail toward Ben Doubler's cabin. CHAPTER XVII DOUBLER TALKS After the departure of the doctor Sheila entered the cabin and closed the door, fastening the bars and drawing a chair over near the table. Doubler seemed to be resting easier, though there was a flush in his cheeks that told of the presence of fever. However, he breathed more regularly and with less effort than before the coming of the doctor, and as a consequence, Sheila felt decidedly better. At intervals during the night she gave him quantities of the medicine which the doctor had left, but only when the fever seemed to increase, forcing the liquid through his lips. Several times she changed the bandages, and once or twice during the night when he moaned she pulled her chair over beside him and smoothed his forehead, soothing him. When the dawn came it found her heavy eyed and tired. She went to the river and procured fresh water, washed her hands and face, prepared a breakfast of bacon and soda biscuit--which she found in a tin box in a corner of the cabin, and then, as Doubler seemed to be doing nicely, she saddled her pony and took a short gallop. Returning, she entered the cabin, to find Doubler tossing restlessly. She gave him a dose of the medicine--an extra large one--but it had little effect, quieting him only momentarily. Evidently he was growing worse. The thought aroused apprehension in her mind, but she fought it down and stayed resolutely at the sick man's side. Through the slow-dragging hours of the morning she sat beside him, giving him the best care possible under the circumstances, but in spite of her efforts the fever steadily rose, and at noon he sat suddenly up in the bunk and gazed at her with blazing, vacuous eyes. "You're a liar!" he shouted. "Dakota's square!" Sheila stifled a scream of fear and shrank from him. But recovering, she went to him, seizing his shoulders and forcing him back into the bunk. He did not resist, not seeming to pay any attention to her at all, but he mumbled, inexpressively: