Without knowing what to say in way of comfort, the herder passed on into the little office, where the postmaster lay on a low couch with face upturned, in rigid, inflexible pose, his hands clenched, his mouth foam-lined. Roy, unused to sickness and death, experienced both pity and awe as he looked down upon the prostrate form of the man he had expected to punish. And yet these emotions were rendered vague and slight by the burning admiration which the niece had excited in his susceptible and chivalrous heart. She was tall and very fair, with a face that seemed plain in repose, but which bewitched him when she smiled. Her erect and powerful body was glowing with health, and her lips and eyes were deliciously young and sweet. Her anxious expression passed away as Roy confidently assured her that these seizures were seldom fatal. He didn't know a thing about it, but his tone was convincing. "I knew a man once who had these fits four or five times a year. Didn't seem to hurt him a bit. One funny thing--he never had 'em while in the saddle. They 'most always come on just after a heavy meal. I reckon the old man must of over-et." Mrs. James came in soon--all too soon to please him--but he reported to her his message to Claywall. "A doctor will be down on 'the Cannonball' about five o'clock," he added. "That's very kind and thoughtful of you," said the girl. Then she explained to Mrs. James that Mr. Pierce had just driven off a horrid band of cowboys who were attacking the town. The landlady snorted with contempt. "I'm so used to boozy cowboys howlin' round, I don't bat an eye when they shoot up the street. They're all a lot of cheap skates, anyway. You want to swat 'em with the mop if they come round; that's the way I do." Roy was nettled by her tone, for he was now very anxious to pose as a valorous defender of the innocent; but agreed with her that "the boys were just having a little 'whiz' as they started home; they didn't mean no harm." "Ought I to sit in there?" the girl asked the woman, with a glance toward the inner room. "No; I don't think you can do any good. I'll just keep an eye on him and let you know if they's any change." The girl apologized for the looks of the kitchen. "Poor uncle has been so feeble lately he couldn't keep things in order, and I haven't had any chance since I came. If you don't mind, I'll rid things up now; it'll keep my mind occupied." [Illustration: "YOU'RE PRETTY SWIFT, AREN'T YOU?" SHE SAID, CUTTINGLY] "Good idea!" exclaimed Roy. "I'll help." He had been in a good many exciting mix-ups with steers, bears, cayuses, sheriffs' posses, and Indians, but this was easily the most stirring and amazing hour of his life. While his pony slowly slid away up the hill to feed, he, with flapping gun and rattling spurs, swept, polished, and lifted things for Lida--that was her name--Lida Converse.