dark man as the messenger offered him the money, and there was a shade of a smile about his black moustache. "Come, let me help you into the saddle while I've got strength—be quick," and he reached to help the messenger to rise.
"I shall never leave you here alone—"
"I'll be dead in twenty minutes—thirty at the outside. Now don't be a fool," and he stooped to lift the big messenger by his wounded leg. But the effort caused him to cough, blood spurted from his mouth, and both men, weak from their wounds, fell down in a heap, and then, leaning on their elbows, they looked at each other, the dark man with a cynical, the messenger with a sort of hysterical smile. The black horse sniffed at his master and snorted at the smell of blood.
V
The Warden's dark-eyed daughter was taking her regular morning ride in the foothills. There were no daily papers to spread the news of the place, and she had heard nothing of the
