The dripping Professor bounded up the rocks, scrambling from foothold to foothold.
"You're safe, dear?" he panted, when Isabel ran to him.
For one terrible moment Stamford stared at them. She read his fear and touched his arm.
"Morton, Morton! He is only a brother. I've been helping him in this case—I do sometimes."
"Heavens, Prior!" cried the Professor. "I feared you'd be too late. I stampeded the cattle. I had to. They were taking them away to-night." Then he saw Cockney. "My God, Aikens! What have they done to you?" He sank beside the wounded man.
"This is—my bad day," murmured Cockney, with a twisted smile. "First you thrashed me—now I'm—on the way, Professor."
"Not Professor, Cockney—Amos Barnes, of the Mounted Police."
Cockney smiled. "I suspected.... I helped you—what I could. But I hated—the Police so. Your English saddle.... Pink Eye yours now without—breaking into the corral—at nights."
Mary Aikens ran along the ledge and sank by his side. She was out on Matana when the Policeman found her.
"Jim! Jim!"