“I thought they had found me. I expected they were going to kill me.” He stopped, and she gave him more of the hot drink, which he took, still lying and looking at her as if the present did not reach his senses. “I knew hands were touching me. I reckon I was not dead. I knew about them soon as they began, only I could not interfere.” He waited again. “It is mighty strange where I have been. No. Mighty natural.” Then he went back into his revery, and lay with his eyes still full open upon her where she sat motionless. She began to feel a greater awe in this living presence than when it had been his body with an ice-cold hand; and she quietly spoke his name, venturing scarcely more than a whisper. At this, some nearer thing wakened in his look. “But it was you all along,” he resumed. “It is you now. You must not stay--” Weakness overcame him, and his eyes closed. She sat ministering to him, and when he roused again, he began anxiously at once: “You must not stay. They would get you, too.” She glanced at him with a sort of fierceness, then reached for his pistol, in which was nothing but blackened empty cartridges. She threw these out and drew six from his belt, loaded the weapon, and snapped shut its hinge. “Please take it,” he said, more anxious and more himself. “I ain’t worth tryin’ to keep. Look at me!” “Are you giving up?” she inquired, trying to put scorn in her tone. Then she seated herself. “Where is the sense in both of us--” “You had better save your strength,” she interrupted. He tried to sit up. “Lie down!” she ordered. He sank obediently, and began to smile. When she saw that, she smiled too, and unexpectedly took his hand. “Listen, friend,” said she. “Nobody shall get you, and nobody shall get me. Now take some more brandy.” “It must be noon,” said the cow-puncher, when she had drawn her hand away from him. “I remember it was dark when--when--when I can remember. I reckon they were scared to follow me in so close to settlers. Else they would have been here.” “You must rest,” she observed. She broke the soft ends of some evergreen, and putting them beneath his head, went to the horses, loosened the cinches, took off the bridles, led them to drink, and picketed them to feed. Further still, to leave nothing undone which she could herself manage, she took the horses’ saddles off to refold the blankets when the time should come, and meanwhile brought them for him. But he put them away from him. He was sitting up against a rock, stronger evidently, and asking for cold water. His head was fire-hot, and the paleness beneath his swarthy skin had changed to a deepening flush. “Only five miles!” she said to him, bathing his head. “Yes. I must hold it steady,” he answered, waving his hand at the cliff. She told him to try and keep it steady until they got home.