“Jack, do you think that he--that they are badly wounded?” “I don’t think so. If they had been, they couldn’t have chased those birds up and down hills.” He had fully intended sending Miss Elaine Norcross Webb home to New York with only a few chosen words, but the sight of her woebegone little face and the real tears in her eyes made him change his mind. “We got there just as Garcia was making a final charge with all his outfit. These lads were holed up in the house with two or three more. Boy, howdy, it was lovely billiards! They were so intent on scragging the rangers that we snuck up on ’em. There was enough of them left to make it even. Hot damn, Lainy, old kid, we run ’em ragged! You ought to have seen the ground in front of the house and on the sides where they’d tried before. It was covered with--” “How did Bud and Sam Earp get--” interrupted Elaine. “Why, some of them scattered out toward the hill in the rear, and all of a sudden the side door came busting open, and out came those two young hell-cats.” (Lieutenant Webb was all of twenty-four.) “And up the hill they took after them. I jarred loose, thinking you might want to see your dear Bud in the flesh once more, and rounded up these men and came after--Say, that reminds me: just how come you here, madam?” “Three of them came running by,” Elaine said, ignoring the question, “and then Bud and--” “Three of them? Holy mackinaw! I wonder if those two got all the rest. This Bud Yancey of yours didn’t act much as if--” A soldier came back and saluted. “If the Lieutenant pleases, the ranger ahead has come to and is asking for Miss Webb.” “Go ahead, Lainy,” Webb started to say, but Elaine was already on her way. * * * * * She slipped in between the bearers and took firm hold of Bud’s hand. “Bud, are you all right? Tell me.” “I am now,” answered Bud, with a grin that was rather a weak one, but a grin just the same. “Darlin’, I knew it was you up yonder, and all the time I didn’t, some way. Honey, you’re a right nice girl, and I love you like--” “Bud Yancey, you are not to talk. You just lie still. Bud--I’m sorry I said that--” “Darlin’, you better tell me right quick if you’re going to love me, while I’m not dizzy and--” “If you don’t keep still,” threatened Elaine, “I wont tell you, ever, that I love you. And--and--I do, Bud.” [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November, 1929 issue of _Blue Book_ magazine.]