"Grab his horse—Mrs. Lieut., I'll get the range better next time—Ranlett——" he dropped back on the pillow; the fever died down in his eyes. He looked up into Benson's anxious face. "Don't mind what I said," he pleaded weakly. "I was dreamin' but—but—I guess you'd better ride after Mrs. Lieut., and be sure she's all right. Ranlett's gang——"
"Ranlett's gang!" both men bent over him. "What do you mean, Beechy?" Benson asked tensely.
"Bolster me up! That's right. That infernal pounding inside me's quieting down." He drew a cautious breath and smiled wanly into the face above him. "Did you see that? It came as easy as spendin' money. Who's that? Where am I?" he demanded as he caught sight of Jim Carey and looked around the room.
"You are at Bear Creek ranch and this is Carey the owner."
"Send him out, Mr. Benson. I've got something to say to you."
"But Carey is——"
"Send him out," Beechy reiterated weakly and closed his eyes as though he were again slipping into a coma.
"You'd better go, Jim. There's some deviltry afoot and Beechy knows what it is. Send Mother Eagan down in ten minutes if she can be spared."
Carey looked down at the motionless figure on the bed.
"I wonder if he knows anything about Small," he whispered. "He left early this morning and——"