In spite of his age, Uncle Jeb was no weakling and though his foot and head were throbbing with intense pain, he managed to raise himself with Westy’s aid. “Wa-al, son, so fur, so good,” he said weakly. “Can’t expect a young fella like yuh to act as a crutch fer me though. Yuh better get Artie!” Helping him down on a rock so he could rest, Westy related to Uncle Jeb all the events leading up to Artie’s present peril. “Sakes alive, boy!” he exclaimed, looking up with a discerning eye on the waning sun. “Thar’s not a secunt to waste fer yuh to git to the lake afore dark. As fer me, I kin take muh time and crawl back to the cabin slow. I kin make it all right!” he added, noting Westy’s look of anxiety. “Are you perfectly sure, Uncle Jeb?” “Sure as yure a foot high,” he answered with a forced cheeriness. Westy accepted this declaration, not without a little dubiousness however. He had every reason to feel that way, for Uncle Jeb looked anything but capable of helping himself. If he was ever between two fires, he was now. “Yuh go straight to the cabin, Westy! Take my rifle off the wall, but don’t use it ’cept yuh get in a tight corner, ’n yuh’ll find the rope and a lantern. I say tuh take the lantern so yuh kin signal Artie, ’n not cause I didn’t think you cud find yer way back in the dark!” the old scout reassured Westy. “I know you didn’t, Uncle Jeb,” Westy said, his voice quivering, and hating to leave, though he knew the time was flying. “Go along now, boy!” Uncle Jeb commanded. He was wishing fervently that Westy would go, for his head was reeling and his mouth felt parched and therefore he was afraid lest Westy should discover his steadily weakening condition. So Westy took his leave of Uncle Jeb with a heavy heart and climbed out of the gulley, so as not to be tempted to look back and weaken. After Westy disappeared from view, Uncle Jeb, with much difficulty and effort, managed to get on his hands and knees. It seemed to take him an hour to crawl a few feet, his foot felt so heavy and the pain was so great. After lying face downward for a few minutes so as to rest his dizzy head he raised up a bit and to his consternation it seemed to be growing dark. “Funny!” he said aloud, “it’s a-taken me all this time to get this fur. I’m feelin’ durn sleepy, I know thet much!” But it wasn’t growing dark at all--except in Uncle Jeb’s fevered mind, for a merciful unconsciousness had come to his rescue and was already plunging his tortured senses into oblivion. CHAPTER XXIX—FACE TO FACE