The scene opened before her eyes like a moving-picture film. On the porch her husband was struggling with a man for the possession of a gun, while young Silcott was sagging against a corner pillar, one hand clutched to his bleeding shoulder. Thirty yards away Tait lay on the ground, face down, beside his horse. From the corral, from the store, from the adjoining doctor’s office men poured upon the scene. The place was suddenly alive with gesticulating people. Rowan tore the rifle from the man with whom he was wrestling. “Don’t be a fool, Falkner. You’ve done enough already. I shouldn’t wonder if Tait had got his.” “He had it coming to him, if ever a man had. If I’d been two seconds later you’d have been a goner, Mac. I just beat him to it. Good riddance if he croaks, I say.” McCoy caught sight of Ruth. He moved toward her, his eyes alive with surprise and dismay. “You—here!” “He didn’t hit you!” She strangled a sob. “No. Falkner fired from the store window. It must have shaken his aim. He hit Larry.” Rowan turned swiftly to his friend, who grinned feebly up at him. “’S all right, Mac. I’ll ride in a heap of round-ups yet. He punctured my shoulder.” “Good! Let’s have a look at it.” A fat little man with a doctor’s case puffed up to the porch as McCoy was cutting away the shirt of the wounded man from the shoulder. “Here! Here! Wha’s the matter? Lemme see. Get water—bandages,” he exploded in staccato snorts like the engine of a motor cycle. Ruth flew into the house to obey orders. When she returned with a basin of water and towels the doctor had gone. “Doc is over looking at Tait,” explained her husband. “Says Larry has only a flesh wound. We’ll take him home with us in the car. You don’t mind?” “Of course we’ll look after him till he’s well,” Ruth agreed. “I wouldn’t think of troubling you, Mrs. McCoy,” objected Silcott. “All I need is——” “Rest and good food and proper care. You’ll get it at the Circle Diamond,” the girl interrupted decisively. “We needn’t discuss that. You’re going with us.” She had her way, as she usually had. After Doctor Irwin had dressed the shoulder the young ranchman got into the back seat of the car beside Ruth. McCoy asked a question point-blank of the fussy little physician: “What about Tait? Will he live?” “Ought to. If no complications. Just missed lower intestines—near thing. Lot of damn fools—all of you!” he snorted. “Sure thing,” grinned Silcott. “Come and see me to-night, Doc.” “H’mp!” “I’ll be looking for you, Doctor Irwin,” Ruth called back from the moving car. The doctor growled out what might be taken for a promise if one were an optimist. From the rim of the valley McCoy looked down and spoke grimly: “I notice that Tait’s herders have changed their minds. They’re driving the sheep back along the road they came.”