“Sling blankets between your horses,” he commanded, decisively.  “Move quickly, lads, and we may save one of these lives yet.”

He led in the preparation himself, his cheeks flushed, his movements prompt, decisive.  As if by some magic discipline the rude, effective litters were rapidly made ready, and the two seemingly lifeless bodies gently lifted from off the ground and deposited carefully within.  Down the long, brown slope they advanced slowly, a soldier grasping the rein and walking at each horse’s head, the supporting blankets, securely fastened about the saddle pommels, swaying gently to the measured tread of the trained animals.  The lieutenant directed every movement, while Carson rode ahead, picking out the safest route through the short grass.  Beneath the protecting shadows of the first group of cottonwoods, almost on the banks of the muddy Bear Water, the little party let down their senseless burdens, and began once more their seemingly hopeless efforts at resuscitation.  A fire was hastily kindled from dried and broken branches, and broth was made, which was forced through teeth that had to be pried open.  Water was used unsparingly, the soldiers working with feverish eagerness, inspired by the constant admonitions of their officer, as well as their own curiosity to learn the facts hidden behind this tragedy.

[Illustration:  They advanced slowly, the supporting blankets swaying gently to the measured tread.]

It was the dark eyes of the girl which opened first, instantly closing again as the glaring light swept into them.  Then slowly, and with wonderment, she gazed up into those strange, rough faces surrounding her, pausing in her first survey to rest her glance on the sympathetic countenance of the young lieutenant, who held her half reclining upon his arm.

“Here,” he exclaimed, kindly, interpreting her glance as one of fear, “you are all right and perfectly safe now, with friends to care for you.  Peters, bring another cup of that broth.  Now, miss, just take a sup or two of this, and your strength will come back in a jiffy.  What was the trouble?  Starving?”

She did exactly as he bade her, every movement mechanical, her eyes fastened upon his face.

“I—­I reckon that was partly it,” she responded at last, her voice faint and husky.  Then her glance wandered away, and finally rested upon another little kneeling group a few yards farther down stream.  A look of fresh intelligence swept into her face.

“Is that him?” she questioned, tremblingly.  “Is—­is he dead?”

“He was n’t when we first got here, but mighty near gone, I’m afraid.  I’ve been working over you ever since.”

She shook herself free and sat weakly up, her lips tight compressed, her eyes apparently blind to all save that motionless body she could barely distinguish.  “Let me tell you, that fellow’s a man, just the same; the gamest, nerviest man I ever saw.  I reckon he got hit, too, though he never said nothing about it.  That’s his style.”