The boy smiled in a puzzled way. 274
“I don’t seem to remember much,” he said, “except the header. My horse fell when I wa’n’t expectin’ it, and I went on a rock. ’Twas the only one on the prairie, I guess, but it got me for sure. What are you doin’ here, miss? I don’t seem to remember you.”
Vivian explained as simply as possible. She and her friend had been resting when his horse brought him to the quaking-asps. One of them had gone for help, and the other had stayed. She was the other.
“You’re not from these parts, I take it,” said the boy, still puzzled. “You don’t speak like us folks.”
“No,” Vivian told him, “I’m from the East. I came out here six weeks ago to visit my friend.”
Her patient looked surprised and raised himself again on his elbow in spite of Vivian’s restraining hand.
“So much of a tenderfoot as that?” he said, gazing at her. “They ain’t usually such good sports as you are, miss. Yes, thank you, I’ll have some more water. It’s right good, I tell you!”
Then he fell asleep again, and left Vivian to the 275 companionship of Siwash and the buckskin. Her patient comfortable, she fed them the remaining cookies, wondering as she did so where the awful sense of loneliness had gone. She should welcome Virginia—already it was time for her—but the knowledge that she must stay another hour would not present such terrors to her.
It was Siwash who first caught the sound of returning hoofs—Siwash and the relieved buckskin. They neighed and told Vivian, who ran from the thicket to see if they were right. Yes, there was Virginia, with Pedro still in the lead, and two men on horseback behind her. She had luckily met them a mile this side of Michner’s, and hurried them back with her. The cow boy had again raised himself, as they rode up to him and dismounted. He was better, for he could look sheepish! This being thrown from one’s horse was a foolish thing!
They would stay with him, the men said. They knew him well. He was called “Scrapes” at Michner’s because he was always getting into trouble. This last was the worst yet. They would camp there that night, and in the morning he could ride home, 276 they felt sure. They were grateful to the girls. Scrapes was a likeable chap, and no one wanted him hurt.