"I wish you would."
"You aren't all alone?"
"Yes; Mrs. Gilfoyle had to go home to her baby. She said she'd come
back, but she hasn't."
Roy's heart swept a wide arc as he stood looking into the pale, awed,
lovely face of the girl.
"I'll bring help," he said, and vanished into the darkness, shivering
with a sense of guilt. "The poor old cuss! Probably he was sick the very
minute I was bullyragging him."
The local doctor had gone down the valley on a serious case, and would
not be back till morning, his wife said, thereupon Roy wired to
Claywall, the county-seat, for another physician. He also secured the
aid of Mrs. James, the landlady of the Palace Hotel, and hastened back
to the relief of the girl, whom he found walking the floor of the little
kitchen, tremulous with dread.
"I'm afraid he's dying," she said. "His teeth are set and he's
unconscious."
Without knowing what to say in way of comfort, the herder passed on into
the little office, where the postmaster lay on a low couch with face
upturned, in rigid, inflexible pose, his hands clenched, his mouth
foam-lined. Roy, unused to sickness and death, experienced both pity and
awe as he looked down upon the prostrate form of the man he had expected
to punish. And yet these emotions were rendered vague and slight by the
burning admiration which the niece had excited in his susceptible and
chivalrous heart.
She was tall and very fair, with a face that seemed plain in repose, but
which bewitched him when she smiled. Her erect and powerful body was
glowing with health, and her lips and eyes were deliciously young and
sweet. Her anxious expression passed away as Roy confidently assured her
that these seizures were seldom fatal. He didn't know a thing about it,
but his tone was convincing.
"I knew a man once who had these fits four or five times a year. Didn't
seem to hurt him a bit. One funny thing--he never had 'em while in the
saddle. They 'most always come on just after a heavy meal. I reckon the
old man must of over-et."
Mrs. James came in soon--all too soon to please him--but he reported to
her his message to Claywall. "A doctor will be down on 'the Cannonball'
about five o'clock," he added.
"That's very kind and thoughtful of you," said the girl. Then she
explained to Mrs. James that Mr. Pierce had just driven off a horrid
band of cowboys who were attacking the town.
The landlady snorted with contempt. "I'm so used to boozy cowboys
howlin' round, I don't bat an eye when they shoot up the street. They're
all a lot of cheap skates, anyway. You want to swat 'em with the mop if
they come round; that's the way I do."
Roy was nettled by her tone, for he was now very anxious to pose as a
valorous defender of the innocent; but agreed with her that "the boys
were just having a little 'whiz' as they started home; they didn't mean
no harm."
"Ought I to sit in there?" the girl asked the woman, with a glance
toward the inner room.
"No; I don't think you can do any good. I'll just keep an eye on him and
let you know if they's any change."
The girl apologized for the looks of the kitchen. "Poor uncle has been
so feeble lately he couldn't keep things in order, and I haven't had
any chance since I came. If you don't mind, I'll rid things up now;
it'll keep my mind occupied."
[Illustration: "YOU'RE PRETTY SWIFT, AREN'T YOU?" SHE SAID, CUTTINGLY]
"Good idea!" exclaimed Roy. "I'll help."
He had been in a good many exciting mix-ups with steers, bears, cayuses,
sheriffs' posses, and Indians, but this was easily the most stirring and
amazing hour of his life. While his pony slowly slid away up the hill to
feed, he, with flapping gun and rattling spurs, swept, polished, and
lifted things for Lida--that was her name--Lida Converse.
"My folks live in Colorado Springs," she explained in answer to his
questions. "My mother is not very well, and father is East, so I had to
come. Uncle Dan was pretty bad when I got here, only not like he is now.
This fit came on after the doctor went away at nine."
"I'm glad your father was East," declared the raider, who was unable to
hold to a serious view of the matter, now that he was in the midst of a
charming and intimate conversation. "Just think--if he had 'a' come, I'd
never have seen _you_!"
She faced him in surprise and disapproval of his boldness. "You're
pretty swift, aren't you?" she said, cuttingly.
"A feller's got to be in this country," he replied, jauntily.
She was prepared to be angry with him, but his candid, humorous,
admiring gaze disarmed her. "You've been very nice," she said, "and I
feel very grateful; but I guess you better not say any more such things
to me--to-night."
"You mustn't forget I chased off them redskins."
"You said they were cowboys."
"Of course I did; I wanted to calm your mind."
She was a little puzzled by his bluffing. "I don't believe there are any
Indians over here."
"Well, if they were cowboys, they were a fierce lot."