"You let me have your pistol, Jib," she said. "I can use it. It will keep that old coyote away."
"And anything else, too," said Jib, handing the gun to her and then stepping back to his pony. "I'll hobble your critter, Miss. Don't go far from the door. I'll either come back myself or send a couple of the boys from camp. They will bring food, anyway. I reckon the poor chap's hungry as well as thirsty."
"He is in a very bad way, indeed," returned Ruth, gravely. "You'll hurry, Jib?"
"Sure. But you'd better come back with me."
"No. I'm in for it now," she replied, trying to smile at him bravely. "I'd better nurse him till he's better, or"
"You ain't got no call to do it!" exclaimed the Indian.
"There is more reason for my helping him than you know," she said, in a low voice. "Oh! there is a very good reason for my helping him."
"He's too far gone to be helped much, I reckon," returned the other, mounting into his saddle. "But I'll be going. Take care of yourself."
"I'll be all right, Jib!" she responded, with more cheerfulness, and waved her hand to him as the cow puncher rode away.
But when the patter of the pony's hoofs had died away the silence brooding over the aban-
