When Beaudry opened his eyes again, Dingwell was pouring water into his mouth from a canteen that had been hanging to the pommel of Miss Rutherford's saddle.
"Was I unconscious?" asked the young man in disgust.
"That's whatever. Just you lie there, son, whilst I fix these bandages up for you again."
The cattleman moistened the hot cloths with cold water and rearranged them.
"We ought to be hurrying on," Roy suggested, glancing anxiously down the steep ascent up which they had ridden.
"No rush a-tall," Dave assured him cheerfully. "We got all the time there is. Best thing to do is to loaf along and take it easy."
"But they'll be on our trail as soon as they know we've gone. They'll force Miss Rutherford to tell which way we came."
Dingwell grinned. "Son, did you ever look into that girl's eyes? They look right at you, straight and unafraid. The Huerfano Park outfit will have a real merry time getting her to tell anything she doesn't want to. When she gets her neck bowed, I'll bet she's some sot. Might as well argue with a government mule. She'd make a right interesting wife for some man, but he'd have to be a humdinger to hold his end up—six foot of man, lots of patience, and sense enough to know he'd married a woman out of 'steen thousand."
Young Beaudry was not contemplating matrimony. His interest just now was centered in getting as far from the young woman and her relatives as possible.
"When young Rutherford finds he has been sold, there will be the deuce to pay," urged Roy.