The moon came out just then in all her silver splendor, lighting up the trail along their way. Artie grasped the opportunity to glance at Westy so as to smile his deep appreciation, and was dismayed to see that his face was white and his lips looked almost green in the moonlight. Renewing his grip on Westy’s shoulder, he felt his body relax against his and saw his eyes close slowly. [Illustration: ARTIE HALF-CARRIED UNCLE JEB INTO THE CABIN AND LAID HIM IN HIS BUNK.] CHAPTER XXXIII—UNCLE JEB FACES A CRISIS Artie realized in a moment that it was exhaustion and the loss of blood that caused Westy’s faint, so he braced himself and, with a prayer for the strength to do it, he managed to get him partly over his shoulder. Leaving the rifle, lantern and rope behind, he continued on, as he knew that he needed both hands and arms now for his present burden. Coming out into the clearing at last, he could see that the cabin was in total darkness. He was breathing laboriously under the strain of Westy’s dead weight, but was supremely thankful that he had at least succeeded in getting him there safely. Kicking the door and calling loudly, he waited a minute, but received no response from within. He then laid Westy down upon the ground tenderly. The moonlight streamed through the whole interior of the cabin as Artie opened the door. Looking around, he saw to his further consternation that Uncle Jeb had not returned. To resuscitate Westy was his first immediate duty and then to go to Uncle Jeb’s relief was his next. He lighted the lamps and, fixing the bunk, he proceeded to get Westy into it. He removed his shoes and then set to work bathing his mutilated hand. He looked with pity at those poor gashed fingers. What a sacrifice, he thought, for him to make in order to get him out of the hollow and get back to give Uncle Jeb assistance as quickly as possible. Instinct had surely warned Westy aright in this case, for the poor old scout hadn’t been able to make the grade after all. So Artie hurriedly ministered to Westy and awaited anxiously for him to regain consciousness. His eager eyes detected a slight flush gradually mounting in those white cheeks. After a little while the eyelids flickered and opened slowly. A wan smile lighted his features when he saw Artie, anxious and concerned, sitting there waiting, a glass of water in his hand. Artie held the glass to Westy’s lips, supporting his head meanwhile with his free hand. “Feel better, huh?” Artie asked, manifesting his concern. “Uh huh! Feeling sleepy, though.” “That’s fine! It’ll do you good, Wes. Go to it!” “Say, Art?” “What?” “Where’s Uncle Jeb? He didn’t get back, did he?” “No, but don’t worry, Wes! I’ll have him here before you’re awake,” Artie said more decisively than he was inclined to feel. “Guess you will be O.K. till I get back. I’ll leave a lantern lighted.” “Sure, I’ll be all right! Feel tired enough to sleep all day to-morrow. Hope you get him back safe!”