Part 21 (2/2)

”It isn't out, but it's past,” said Jed.

”Well, it mighty near got _me_,” he groaned. ”It corralled me on that ridge. If I hadn't cached myself in that little canyon, I'd have been burned to a crisp. It burned my hoss, I reckon. He jerked loose from me and left me to go it alone with my wounded leg. Water! Ain't there a creek ahead? Gimme some water.”

While he was mumbling we set him down, beyond the fire line. It didn't seem as though we could get him any further. Kit hustled for water, Jed skipped to get first-aid stuff from a blanket-roll, and I made an examination.

His face and hands were blistered--maybe his eyes were scorched--there was a b.l.o.o.d.y place wrapped about with a dirty red handkerchief, on the calf of his left leg. But I couldn't do much until I had scissors or a sharp knife, and water.

”Who are you kids?” he asked. ”Fis.h.i.+n'?” He was lying with his eyes closed.

”No. We're some Boy Scouts.”

He didn't seem to like this. ”Great Scott!” he complained. ”Ain't there n.o.body but Boy Scouts in these mountains?”

Just then Kit came back with a hat of water from a boggy place. It was muddy water, but it looked wet and good, and the man gulped it down, except what I used to soak our handkerchiefs in. Kit went for more. Jed arrived with first-aid stuff, and I set to work, Jed helping.

We let the man wipe his own face, while we cut open his s.h.i.+rt where it had stuck to the flesh.

”Here!” he said suddenly. ”Quit that. What's the matter with you?”

But he was too late. When I got inside his unders.h.i.+rt, there on a buckskin cord was hanging something that we had seen before. At least, it either was the message of the Elk Patrol or else a package exactly like it.

”Is that yours?” I asked.

”Maybe yes, and maybe no. Why?” he growled.

”Because if it isn't, we'd like to know where you got it.”

”And if you don't tell, we'll go on and let you be,” snapped little Jed.

”Shut up,” I ordered--which wasn't the right way, but I said it before I thought. Jed had made me angry. ”No, we won't.” And we wouldn't. Our duty was to fix him the best we could. ”But that looks like something belonging to us Scouts, and it has our private mark on it. We'd like to have you explain where you got it.”

”He's _got_ to explain, too,” said little Jed, excited.

”Have I?” grinned the man, hurting his face. ”Why so?”

”There are three of us kids. We can keep sight of you till that Ranger comes back. He'll make you.”

”Who?”

”That Forest Ranger. He's a Government officer.”

Kit Carson arrived, staring, with more water.

”I know you!” he panted. He signed to us, pointing at the man's feet.

”You were at that other camp!” And Jed and I looked and saw the hole in the left sole--although both soles were badly burned, now. By that mark he was the beaver man! He wriggled uneasily as if he had a notion to sit up.

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