Once during the long drive, as they neared the ranch house, a low moan came from the form on the straw in the wagonbed. Both Johnson and Mary looked around quickly, then regarded each other.
“Beginning to suffer,” said the parent. “It’s a wonder there’s a whole bone in his body. I hope the doctor is down below waiting for us.”
This proved to be the case when about ten o’clock Johnson drove his worn-out team into his dooryard. Weir’s car was there and with it the engineer himself and a young medical practitioner. Climbing up into the wagon, the doctor made a hasty examination of the patient.
“Hips broken. Slight concussion of the skull, but not dangerous,” was his opinion. “I shall not be able to tell the full seriousness of his injuries until I have him stripped on a table or bed. Probably there are other broken bones,––ribs or something. We must get him down to Bowenville as quickly as possible, for his is a bad case. But I guess if he has pulled through so far he’ll recover. If you’ll drive your wagon down to the mouth of the canyon, we’ll transfer him to my car, which is double seated, and then you can accompany me to 194 town; Mr. Weir says you are willing to go along and help. I’ll send you back from Bowenville.”
“Yes, I’ll go along. Mary will ride down with us and bring back the team and wagon.”
“Strange what he was doing up there in the mountains with an automobile alone,” the doctor remarked.
“Oh, he might have wanted a day’s fishing, or was taking a look at cattle or range, something like that,” Johnson stated.
“Mr. Weir said a sheepherder found him. Wasn’t that it, sir?”
The engineer turned to the rancher.
“Wasn’t that the way of it?”