Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of
him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope. As she
pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him. He accepted the
challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.

Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse. Below him
he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the
hillside. On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid
against the gray of the shale. He plunged toward her and stooping
caught her up in his arms. "Nell! Nell!" he cried, smoothing back her
hair from her forehead. "God, Nell! I--I didn't mean it."

Her eyelids quivered. Then she gasped. He could feel her trembling.
Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.
"I'm all right. Challenge fell--and I jumped clear. Struck my head.
Don't look at me like that! I'm not going to die."

"I'm--I'm mighty glad, Nell!" he said, helping her to a seat on the
rock against which she had fallen.

Her hands were busy with her hair. He found her hat and handed it to
her. "If my head wasn't just splitting, I'd like to laugh. You are
the funniest man alive! I couldn't speak, but I heard you call to me
and tell me you didn't mean it! Then you say you are mighty glad I'm
alive. Doesn't that sound funny enough to bring a person to life
again?"

"No, it's not funny. It was a close call."