“I guess we better lie back to back,” proposed Missou. “If our luck’s good I reckon they’re going to have a gay time rushing this fort.” A few desultory shots had already been dropped among the cottonwoods, and returned by the defendants when Missou let out a yell of triumph. “Glory Hallelujah! Here comes the boys splittin’ down the road hell-for-leather. That lopsided, ring-tailed snorter of a hawss-thief is gathering his wolves for a hike back to the tall timber. Feed me a cigareet, Mac. I plumb want to celebrate.” It was as the cow-puncher had said. Down the road a cloud of dust was sweeping toward them, in the centre of which they made out three hardriding cowboys from the ranch. Farther back, in the distance, was another dust whirl. The outlaw chief’s hard, vigilant gaze swept over the reinforcements! and decided instantly that the game had gone against him for the present. He whistled shrilly twice, and began a slow retreat toward the hills. The miscreants flung a few defiant shots at the advancing cowmen, and disappeared, swallowed up in the earth swells. The homeward march was a slow one, for Bannister had begun to show signs of consciousness and it was necessary to carry him with extreme care. While they were still a mile from the ranch house the pinto and its rider could be seen loping toward them. “Ride forward, Denver, and tell Miss Helen we’re coming. Better have her get everything fixed to doctor him soon as we get there. Give him the best show in the world, and he’ll still be sailing awful close to the divide. I’ll bet a hundred plunks he’ll cash in, anyway.” “_Done!_” The voice came faintly from the improvised litter. Mac turned with a start, for he had not known that Bannister was awake to his surroundings. The man appeared the picture of helplessness, all the lusty power and vigor stricken out of him; but his indomitable spirit still triumphed over the physical collapse, for as the foreman looked a faint smile touched the ashen lips. It seemed to say: “Still in the ring, old man.” CHAPTER VIII. IN THE LAZY D HOSPITAL Helen’s first swift glance showed that the wounded man was Bannister. She turned in crisp command to her foreman. “Have him taken to my room and put to bed there. We have no time to prepare another. And send one of the boys on your best horse for a doctor.” They carried the limp figure in with rough tenderness and laid him in the bed. McWilliams unbuckled the belt and drew off the chaps; then, with the help of Denver, undressed the wounded man and covered him with quilts. So Helen found him when she came in to attend his wounds, bringing with her such things as she needed for her task. Mrs. Winslow, the housekeeper, assisted her, and the foreman stayed to help, but it was on the mistress of the ranch that the responsibility of saving him fell. Missou was already galloping to Bear Creek for a doctor, but the girl knew that the battle must be fought and the issue decided before he could arrive.