"Empty!" she said. "Hard luck! Water will have to do. We were careless to forget our drinking-cups. Rinse this flask, and get some water from the spring, Vivian." Vivian, still waving the fan in the air, brought the water, which Virginia tried to pour between the man's lips. It seemed to arouse him, for he drank some gratefully, though without opening his eyes. "I ought to wash some of this blood away," said Virginia, "but I guess I won't take the time. You can do that after I'm gone. There's only one thing to do. We can't leave this man here in this condition. He might die before any one found him. I'll take Pedro and ride on to Michner's as fast as I can for help. Or," she added, seeing Vivian's eyes open wider, "_you_ take him, and I'll stay here. Either you like, only we must decide at once. Maybe we'll meet somebody or somebody'll come, or maybe there'll be somebody at the homesteader's cabin. Which will you do, ride or stay?" Vivian had decided before she looked at Pedro. She always felt that Pedro entertained scorn for her, contempt that wild gallops through the sagebrush should, together with his youth and speed, present terrors. She knew that he despised her for preferring Siwash to him. "I'll stay," she said firmly. "Pedro will do more for you than for me. When will you be back?" Virginia was already in the saddle. "Probably in little more than an hour, if I find folks," she said. "Keep giving him some water if he needs it, and fan him. He may come to. Good-by." The sound of Pedro's feet died away all too quickly. The stillness which followed was deeper than ever. It fairly sang in the air. For fully five minutes Vivian stood motionless, loath to believe that Virginia had gone. She did not want to be alone! Something inside of her cried out against it. But she _was_ alone--she, Vivian Winters, alone with a dying cow boy on a limitless Wyoming plain. Since the relentless knowledge pushed itself upon her, she might as well accept it. _She was alone!_ And there was the cow boy! Virginia had said that he might come to! For her own sake she hoped he didn't. He was awful enough as he was--blood-smeared and dirty--but at least he did not realize the situation, and that was a scant comfort. If he came to, he might be insane. Blows on the head often made persons so. Given insanity and a gun, what would be the demonstration? A low groan from the quaking-asp thicket brought Vivian to herself. Imagination had no place here. This man was hurt, and she was strong and well. There was a spring of water near by, and she had extra handkerchiefs in her pocket. It was plainly up to her!