“Don’t forget the spot,” said Sagebrush anxiously. “I reckon there’s a reward for that gent down south.”
“Never mind talking now,” said Ramsay, with a glance at the unconscious girl. “Got any more grub in there? Then lay it out—get breakfast started, anyhow.”
He went to the pool below, sluiced head and neck and arms with the cold water. Then he turned to the girl and lifted her head in his arms. He was about to bathe her face, when her eyes opened and looked up into his, startled and wide in recognition.
“You’re all right,” he said quietly, and smiled. “Sit still a minute, young lady, and take it easy.”
Color rising in her cheeks, the girl sat up, then sprang to her feet, staring around. “Where is he?”
“He done went away, ma’am,” said Sagebrush solemnly. “Yessir. That Mex done seen the error of his ways and got converted. I never seen a Mex get converted so sudden before, neither, nor with such good results.”
“And we owe Sagebrush a vote of thanks for converting him,” added Ramsay, turning to the fire. “Breakfast ready in a minute, Miss Gilman. Have you any biscuits cooked up?”
“Yere’s some store biscuits.” Sagebrush tossed out a package. “Say, Perfesser! I’m right worried about somethin’.”
“About what?” asked Ramsay.
“Why, d’you s’pose that cuss Sidewinder will steal them magazines o’ mine? I left ’em to the hotel in my pack. I got six months’ store o’ magazines there, and I’m readin’ a long story in one of ’em. I been thinking a lot about that there story in the last six months, and I’m gettin’ real anxious to finish it. If Sidewinder steals ’em—”