"Oh, never mind that!" she said. "But if you will go to the Newman
ranch-house for me and ask them to send the buckboard I'll be very
grateful. I--I feel dizzy, you know."

"Gee whiz!" exclaimed the young man. "There's no time for me to run
about the desert if you have a scorpion sting in your foot!"

"Is a scorpion sting dangerous?" asked Rhoda. Then she added,
languidly, "Not that I mind if it is!"

The young man gave her a curious glance. Then he pulled a small case
from his pocket, knelt in the sand and lifted Rhoda's foot in one
slender, strong, brown hand. The instep already was badly swollen.

"Hold tight a minute!" said the young man.

And before Rhoda could protest he had punctured the red center of the
swelling with a little scalpel, had held the cut open and had filled it
with a white powder that bit. Then he pulled a clean handkerchief from
his pocket and tore it in two. With one half he bound the ankle above
the cut tightly. With the other he bandaged the cut itself.

"Are you a doctor?" asked Rhoda faintly.

"Far from it," replied the young man with a chuckle, tightening the
upper bandage until Rhoda's foot was numb. "But I always carry this
little outfit with me; rattlers and scorpions are so thick over on the
ditch. Somebody's apt to be hurt anytime. I'm Charley Cartwell, Jack
Newman's engineer."