They all laughed at the wry face Mike made, but he sat down, obstinately saying:
“Now, look here, fellows; this is nothing to laugh at. I’ve heard of people faintin’ away with this, and I ain’t no coward when it comes to it, and that you all know. I must rest this foot a little, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Snakes, you stay here with Mike and we’ll push on. Somehow, I’ve got a hunch that we’re needed up at the claim,” said Shoshone.
“No,” said Mike, “you all stay for ten minutes. That’s all I ask.”
“Well, then, did you sprain your warbler, too? If not, then let’s sing, to ease the pain,” said Shoshone. He well knew the virtues of the singing to the cattle, so why not try it on the suffering man? So he started the song and the rocky canyon resounded with the melody, for these men make real music with their singing out in the open. And scarcely had they finished the song than they heard a familiar “Whoo-hoo,” and, with one accord, they said:
“The Angel. No use talking, our warbling would bring the angels down. Whoo-hoo, Angel, this way!”
“I am awfully glad to see you, boys,” said Helen, as she climbed down the declevity. “We’ve been hunting for game and found none, and are pretty well starved out up there. And the little fellow needs better food.”
“Come on, boys; come quick! Scoot, you wolves, and get a lamb from the nearest flock! Don’t stand there looking, but scoot. I’ve got enough with me for one good square meal all ready, and the rest will be easy. Mike, you get on my cayuse. We can’t wait.”
“What is it, Mike? Have you turned your ankle? Let me see it. No saying a word, but take off your boot, and quick,” said Helen, in the most matter-of-fact business sort of way. Then she deftly felt the injured foot and, with a quick wrench that made the strong man pale to the lips, she said:
“Why, Mike, it was dislocated. No wonder it hurt. Now I’ll bandage it the best I can until we get to civilization again.”