He seemed so astounded, he looked so ashamed, so scared, and withal, so haggard and weak, that Lucy immediately recovered her equanimity. "Sure I'm a girl. But that's no matter.... You've been thrown. Are you hurt?" He smiled a weak assent. "Badly?" she queried. She did not like the way he lay--so limp, so motionless. "I'm afraid so. I can't move." "Oh! ... What shall I do?" "Can you--get me water?" he whispered, with dry lips. Lucy flew to her horse to get the small canteen she always carried. But that had been left on her saddle, and she had ridden Van's. Then she gazed around. The wash she had crossed several times ran near where the rider lay. Green grass and willows bordered it. She ran down and, hurrying along, searched for water. There was water in places, yet she had to go a long way before she found water that was drinkable. Filling her sombrero, she hurried back to the side of the rider. It was difficult to give him a drink. "Thanks, miss," he said, gratefully. His voice was stronger and less hoarse. "Have you any broken bones?" asked Lucy. "I don't know. I can't feel much." "Are you in pain?" "Hardly. I feel sort of thick." Lucy, being an intelligent girl, born in the desert and used to its needs, had not often encountered a situation with which she was unable to cope. "Let me feel if you have any broken bones.... THAT arm isn't broken, I'm positive." The rider smiled faintly again. How he stared with his strained, dark eyes! His face showed ghastly through the thin, soft beard and the tan. Lucy found his right arm badly bruised, but not broken. She made sure his collar-bones and shoulder-blades were intact. Broken ribs were harder to locate; still, as he did not feel pain from pressure, she concluded there were no fractures there. With her assistance he moved his legs, proving no broken bones there. "I'm afraid it's my--spine," he said. "But you raised your head once," she replied. "If your back was--was broken or injured you couldn't raise your head." "So I couldn't. I guess I'm just knocked out. I was--pretty weak before Wildfire knocked me--off Nagger." "Wildfire?" "That's the red stallion's name." "Oh, he's named already?" "I named him--long ago. He's known on many a range." "Where?" "I think far north of here. I--trailed him--days--weeks--months. We crossed the great canyon--" "The Grand Canyon?" "It must be that." "The Grand Canyon is down there," said Lucy, pointing. "I live on it.... You've come a long way." "Hundreds of miles! ... Oh, the ground I covered that awful canyon country! ... But I stayed with Wildfire. An' I put a rope on him. An' he got away.... An' it was a boy--no--a GIRL who--saved him for me--an' maybe saved my life, too!" Lucy looked away from the dark, staring eyes. A light in them confused her. "Never mind me. You say you were weak? Have you been ill?" "No, miss, just starved.... I starved on Wildfire's trail."