Nell Loring reined up as she came opposite the Concho riders and turned from the road. The men glanced at each other. Then ensued an awkward silence. The girl's face was white and her dark eyes burned with reproach as she saw the trampled sheep and here and there the figure of a man prone on the mesa. Corliss raised his hat as she rode up. She sat her horse gazing at the men. Without a word she turned and rode toward the ranch-house. The Concho riders jingled along, in no hurry to face the scene which they knew awaited them at the water-hole.
She was on her knees supporting her father's head when they dismounted and shuffled into the yard. The old sheep-man blinked and tried to raise himself. One of the Concho boys stepped forward and helped her get the wounded man to the house.
Corliss strode to the bedroom and spoke to Sundown who turned and sat up. "Get hit, Sun?"
"No. But I'm feelin' kind of sick. Is the ole man dead?"
"He's hurt, but not bad. We want the bed."
Sundown got to his feet and sidled past the girl as she helped her father to the bed.
"I sent for the doctor," said Corliss.
The girl whirled and faced him. "You!" she exclaimed—"You!"
The rancher's shoulders straightened. "Yes—and it was my gun got him. You might as well know all there is to it." Then he turned and, followed by Sundown, stepped to the yard. "We'll keep busy while we're waiting. Any of you boys that feel like riding can round up the herd. Hi and I will look after—the rest of it."
"And Bud," suggested a rider.