“Well—I can do that, I suppose. But how about you finding your way to the Rolling River outfit? I—don’t—know.”
“I’ll stay here and watch,” declared Ruth, firmly. “You ride for help—get medicine—tell Mr. Hicks to send for a doctor at Bullhide, too. I have some money with me and I know my Uncle Jasper will pay whatever it costs to get a doctor to this man. Besides—there are other people interested.”
“Why, Miss, I don’t know about this,” murmured Jib Pottoway. “It’s risky to leave you here. Old Bill will be wild at me.”
“I’m going to stay right here,” declared Ruth, getting out of the saddle. “You can leave me your gun if you will——”
“Sure! I could do that. But I don’t know what the boss’ll say.”
“It won’t much matter what he says,” said Ruth, with a faint smile. “I shall be here and he will be at Silver Ranch.”
“Ugh!” muttered Jib. “But what’ll he say to me?”
“I believe Mr. Hicks is too good-hearted to wish to know that we left this unfortunate young man here without care. It would be too cruel.”
“You wait till I look about the camp,” muttered Jib, without paying much attention to Ruth’s last remark.
He left his pony and walked quickly up the overgrown trail that had once been the main street of Tintacker Camp. Ruth slipped out of the saddle and ran to the door of the sick man’s hut. She laid her hand on the latch, hesitated a moment, and then pushed the door open. There was plenty of light in the room. The form on the bed, under a tattered old blanket, was revealed. Likewise the flushed, thin face lying against the rolled-up coat for a pillow.