follow. Finally, to make matters worse, Roberts's horse slipped in a
rocky wash and lamed himself. He did not want to go on, and, when
urged, could hardly walk.

Roberts got off to examine the injury. "Wal, he didn't break his
leg," he said, which was his manner of telling how bad the injury
was. "Joan, I reckon there'll be some worryin' back home tonight.
For your horse can't carry double an' I can't walk."

Joan dismounted. There was water in the wash, and she helped Roberts
bathe the sprained and swelling joint. In the interest and sympathy
of the moment she forgot her own trouble.

"Reckon we'll have to make camp right here," said Roberts, looking
around. "Lucky I've a pack on that saddle. I can make you
comfortable. But we'd better be careful about a fire an' not have
one after dark."

"There's no help for it," replied Joan. "Tomorrow we'll go on after
Jim. He can't be far ahead now." She was glad that it was impossible
to return home until the next day.

Roberts took the pack off his horse, and then the saddle. And he was
bending over in the act of loosening the cinches of Joan's saddle
when suddenly he straightened up with a jerk.

"What's that?"

Joan heard soft, dull thumps on the turf and then the sharp crack of
an unshod hoof upon stone. Wheeling, she saw three horsemen. They