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Show f 1 SPEARMAN COPYRIGHT FRANK H. SPEARMAN " the door, and on It Panama lay at rest. His companions made ready to start back for the fire lines. "Now, boys, watch out," said Den-Ison Den-Ison gravely. "We can't afford any more mistakes like this. If Jake and Panama had listened to me they wouldn't have got cut off. Bull," he added, speaking to Page, "get up a pair of ponies, If you can find 'em, and hitch 'em to the light wagon. Carpy wants Panama taken right In town." The Injured barber was coming to. He had been carried to the bunkhouse and was propped up on a bench outside the doorway. He looked at Carpy wistfully. "Tell me, Doc," he begged "have they found Panama yet?" . "They have, Jake. And he was hurt. I did what little I could do for him here. But I've not got what's needed here for treatment. Panama's Pan-ama's got to go to town. They're hitching up the wagon." Spotts started up, on fire. "Then I've got to see him before he goes. Don't let 'em start till I see him, Doc. Where is he?" Carpy tried in vain to quiet his patient. "You mustn't have any excitement tonight. I've done my best for you. Now, damn it, dry up: I tell you you can't see him." A dreadful light dawned on the barber. His gaunt jaw dropped, his hollow eyes flames. "Doc!" be cried out. "Panama's dead !" The word rang In Carpy's ,ears for many a day. "Jake," he said brusquely, "I've tried to soften things for you doesn't seem to be no use. They pulled him out of the woods after the fire passed a grove back of Gunlock Knob." "That's where we got caught right there," cried the barber. "We got back to the ponies an' had to cut across a piece of burned timber tim-ber to get out. A dead limb from one of the trees fell on me. I went down with the pony. When I kicked loose, the pony bolted, an when I tried to get up, my leg was broke. "There we was. Doc. Panama's pony couldn't carry double. The fire was creepin' up on two sides of us. ' It was terrible, Doc that's all pleaded earnestly. At last he agreed to come. At eight o'clock, the welcome splutter of the dilapidated engine was heard outside. The padre, a Gunlock buck chauffeur, and a little lit-tle Indian boy of ten or twelve disembarked, dis-embarked, and the reception committee com-mittee welcomed the guest of honor to the hotel office long well filled. And headed by the clergyman and the little fellow, the growing crowd straggled down the street to Harry Tenison's, where poor Panama lay in state. ' ' Padre Cataldo, laying aside his hat and his overcoat of many patches, made the sign of the cross, knelt a moment In silent prayer, and, standing behind the pool table on which Panama lay In his coffin, spoke clearly and simply. "Boys," said the old priest, "this looks like a queer place for a padre ; perhaps a queer job. But I've known Bill Hayes a good many years. I knew him In his wildest days. And I've known him for the last three years, since he turned over a new leaf. "Bill used to visit me and talk .with me. It was something I said to him once, so he told me, that started him thinking. "What's all this about this greedy, rotten old world?' he asked himself. "Bill was not a follower of my faith you know that. But he believed be-lieved Jesus Christ to be the Son of God, and for three years he has tried the best he could to keep his commandments. "Naturally, I never heard Bill preach. But I have been told what eloquent and., sincere sermons he did preach. But out there In those forgotten hills, facing no, not facing fac-ing but embracing a dreadful death, Bill preached a deathless sermon, for he took his text from the lips of God himself. And wherever wher-ever you bury him, boys, let the words of that text be graven on his tomb: " 'Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' " The lull In the fire threat issued in fresh dangers to the hill ranches. CHAPTER VIContlnued ' In the nearer distance lay Denison's Deni-son's buildings. Between the two Points a second fire burned, curving like a great scimitar along the cut-over cut-over lnnds surrounding the ranch. "Bull!" she called fearfully to her nearest cowboy. "What does It all mean Is there anything that can he saved?' "Why, I can see where they've been back-firinV Can't tell much about it till we get closer. Come on, boys! Push 'em over the hill. If this Is too fast for you, , miss," he yelled, "follow us 1' '.. . . - But nothing was too fast for Jane. The city girl was always on their heels. With the ponies In a lather, the Gunlock crew pulled up short before be-fore the ranch-house corral, where a party of fire fighters just from town were starting for the front. Henry Sawdy, smoked and scorched, was guiding them out. Bill.Parda-loe Bill.Parda-loe headed the town men. In the bunch were the evangelist preacher. preach-er. Big Bill Hayes, alias Panama; the liveryman, McAIpln; Spotts. the bald-headed and profane barber; bar-ber; Selwood, the cattleman, with half a dozen of his men; Jim Laramie, Lara-mie, from away up In the Crazy "Oh, Bill," protested Jane, faintly, faint-ly, sick at heart with the happiness happi-ness of listening to his words. "Don't! You mustn't say such things. I won't listen to you, Bill. I'm nothing but a girl, and you're making me a goddess or a fairy stop such nonsense. Not one word more, Bill Denison. If you keep on, I'll break out. crying. Here's the house, anyway. Good night." Every available man was out on the front lines when Jane reached the threatened ranch after daybreak. day-break. Quong kept the little stove In the kitchen hot, and Jane, busy about the cabin and looking after the boy burned the day before, did not realize how fast the morning was going, until Carpy arrived from town to dress the lad's burns. He greeted Jane and, with her to help, went to work on his patient. Afterward he sat down beside Jane on the bench outside the door. "So," said he, "you're playing good Samaritan. How are you holding out over at Gunlock?" "All right; the " danger Is . all from this way. If we can hold the fire over here, It's not likely to bother us. Oh, doctor," exclaimed Jane, springing to her feet, "what does that mean?" lit id woman country, with a bunch of his cowboys. , ' . Jane saw a man riding up from the creek, but It did not look to her like Bill Denison. Not until he drew near and lifted his hat hastily to her as he rode over to talk to Pardaloe, did she realize It was he. As rapidly as possible he greeted the newcomers, told them where they were most needed, pointed and started them on their way, , and turned to Jane. "Oh, Bill !". exclaimed Jane,., as Denison rode up. "I'm so sorry." "I hope I didn't stir things up over there, by sending that message. mes-sage. I shouldn't have done It, only I promised," he said In a dry, cracked voice. "Don't think about the small things, Bill. You should have sent long ago. I brought all the men I could." "McCrossen refused to come?" 'He was kind of mean so I came myself I hope I'll do for a substitute?" His answering smile was Joyful. "It was too good of you to come, Jane. But now I've got to ride right out again. Would you step Into the cabin and rest up before you ride back?" "Hide back? Yes, but who's going go-ing to cook for all these men? I'm going back to get Quong and bring him over." xTn aooorl hpfnre Jane got back Riding out of the' woods south of the ranch house, she saw a party of men slowly advancing. Riding between two men, supporting sup-porting him on his pony, a third man riding behind the trio, Carpy saw the Injured man, hatiess and coatless, and heard him suppress ah occasional groan. Carpy walked forward to greet the party. "Well, boys," he asked, "who Is it this time?" Jim Laramie answered. "."Why, Doc, .It's Jake Spotts. .There's been a bad accident. Jake and Panama got cut off up by the pass. Stayed too long. I'm glad you're . here, Doc; he's hurt pretty bad." "No !" screamed Spgtts, so blackened and burned as to be unrecognizable, un-recognizable, and writhing in pain, "it ain't me, Doc; It's Panama! Damn it go back, boys, and get Panama. I tell you, go back!" "Denison has gone to get him, Doc," explained Laramie. "Keep quiet, Jake, you only make your leg worse. It's his leg, Doc." Carpy motioned. "Bring him Into In-to the cabin." The unfortunate barber, eased, with many groans, off the pony, was laid on the dinner table, asking for water and half deliriously calling call-ing for Panama. Carpy examined Spotts. He found to his relief that the man was not seriously burned. "It's his left leg," explained Carpy a little later to the group; "broke down near the ankle." reservation cut-over lands crept north on the very night that Panama Pana-ma was buried. With what aid she could bring, Jane rode next morning over to her neighbor's only to find the situation critical. By noon the fire fighters Were being driven back all along the line. But, loath to abandon hope of saving the ranch buildings, the men fought till Denison,. riding among them, warned them to look first to their own safety. Riding then fast to the ranch house, he found Jane consulting with Quong In the kitchen. "I must think of your safety, Jane," he said. "It Is getting too close to danger here. "Bill, is it that bad?" "We might as well face the truth. It's not safe here for you. You must go, and quickly. Are your ponies saddled?" "They are." "Then take Quong and mount up." Janes eyes softened. They fell before his. "I just hate to go, Bill," she pouted, tantalizingly. "It seems like deserting a friend." - . . .' "It Isn't Jane. You may imagine, girl, how I hate to send you away. But you know who I'm thinking of, don't you?" "You mustn't think too .much of anybody but yourself, just , now, Bill," she murmured. "I do some thinking myself these days.":, Quong had been called. Always forehanded, without any words he was winking and blinking In his Afterward He Sat Down Beside Jane on the Bench Outside . the Door. a man can say, Just terrible. We couldn't hardly hear us talk. Panama Pan-ama picked me up to set me on his pony. 'Nol' I yells. 'It won't do, Panama, an' you know it. I'm done, Panama. Save yourself. You ain't got a minute to lose. Got back on your horse and run for It.' "'Shut up, Jake,' Panama yells. 'Get up on that pony!' I tried to fight tt out with him but I was crazy with pain V couldn't handle myself, neither. He lifted me on his pony, stuck the lines In my hands. 'Beat It,' he yelled. "What'll you do?', says L 'I've got good legs, I'll run,' he says" A melancholy procession took the desert road that night for Sleepy saddle. Denison handed Jane, her, lines. She leaned toward him and spoke low: "Bill, will you promise me, solemnly, one thing,?" vV- -' . "Promise you anything, girl."-' "Solemnly, Bill?" .' '"Solemnly. What Is it?" , "That you'll think first for' your own safety. Now promise!" . "I promise, Jane." . "For my sake, Bill?" . ' .. "Do you mean that?" "I do mean it." "God bless you. If the buildings go, I'll ride over to report tomorrow." tomor-row." Jane slept so well that she opened her eyes in the heavy air of daybreak, conscience-stricken at having rested peacefully during the hours In which her neighbor might have been burned out. , She dressed, ate Quong's hurried breakfast, saddled her pony, and set out for Denison's, directing Quong to follow as soon as he could. The smoka grew more dense as she neared the ridge, and she reluctantly turned about for home and told Quong of her failure and that she would ride up Into the high hills to see what was going on. (TO BE COyTlMUED) to Denison's and Installed herself with Quong In the kitchen. One man, severely burned, came in from the front toward dark. Carpy Car-py could not be reached till morning. morn-ing. Jane bandaged the mans arms and fed him. Denison rode In late, smoked and scorched anew, but tireless.' ... : - "Bill" she asked, sitting down opposite him,', "tell Tine honestly: are you holding it?" "Jane, to tell the truth, I don t know. Sometimes I think we "are sometimes It looks bad. In 8 forest fire, every hour must tell Its own story;, that's about the size Itf'was late when they walked out of doors together. The southern south-ern sky was angry red. ."It'll be a hard day tomorrow, Bill." said Jane "There's nothing more I can do here, tonight I'm going borne. I'll be back, by daylight In the morning: You go to bed. You must be dead." "I'll ride over along with you, Jane." "No, you will not. "But Jane, you're not going to deprive me of riding home with you?" "Yes I an." "Oh,' please!" He pleaded with her like a boy. "I've been counting count-ing on it all day" "I thought you'd been flre-fight- "Fhtlng fire and thinking about yon and saying, 'Tonight 111 ride home with Jane."' "Bill Denison, you're silly, iou ought to be willing to call It a d3"After I take you home, Jane!" What a tease! Well, then, come "'The'y did not ride fast There was so much to talk over. Both were serious. Denison knew bett than Jane how grave t808" was both to himself and to Jer But he had his hour wrth he worn an he loved, and for that hour that else In the world mattered? Keeping up a rupiu me ui tain., Carpy opened his bag, set out his needed appliances and his bottle of chloroform, gradually subdued the man, got him, with Jane's help, under un-der the anesthetic, and working In Ids shirt sleeves and in the Intense heat at a breath-taking speed, finished fin-ished the operation, "sat down, drew a cigar from his waistcoat pocket and lighted It. "Jane," he said, "I suppose this is your first surgical case?" "Yes, Doctor." "You'd make a good nurse, girl." "Doctor, what do you suppose he meant calling so for Panama?" Carpy explained. "Today," he continued, "Panama was his partner on the line: the men work In pairs generally." .,,,. "I hope they'll find him all right "I hope," observed Carpy thoughtfully, thought-fully, "he'll he all right when they do find him." "There come some, of the boys. Denison is with them," Carpy said suddenly, pointing to the edge of the woods. "They're halting. They ve .rot something slung across the back of a pony. I'll walk over." CHAPTER VII i-vR CARPY walked hurriedly to U the edge of the woods where the men gathered closely around h'"Best thing to do Is to take off that old bunkhouse door, Bill," said Carpy, when he saw whom they were carrying. "We can lay him on that and carry him over here to the SlThev had brought Panama out of the burned timber where Denison and Bull Page bad found him. They had taken In a rony, bareback, to where he lay, slung the big fellow Across It and, thus carried bim through the woods. ... Panama was lifted from the pony and laid on the door. A colored neck-" neck-" h,ef was laid over his face, and S stumbling steps he was earned ear-ned back of the bunkhouse. Two awhorscs had been set to support Cat In the wagon lay Panama; beside him .lay his Injured . friend, Spotts Jake would have it no other way. In town, next day, the boys tried vainly to figure out some sort of a decent burial service for Panama. "I've got It," exclaimed Jeff Sollers, who was sitting near Carpy. He slapped the doctor's knee. "We'll have the old Doc himself make a few remarks over ranama." "No." "Yes." "Hell, no! I won't do it," growled Carpy. "But why won't you?" "Well, I'll tell you. I'm Just another an-other bum, like poor Panama that's alL You needn't yell I know. The way I look at it Is this: Nothing in Panama's life, became him like the leaving of it. Surely no man could die a nobler death than Panama's. Now I want to see a man who lives a life like Panama's Pana-ma's death say a few words over Tanama, and I'm going to try to n-et him to do It Who? The old' padre over on the Reservation." "But he won't do it. Tanama didn't belong to bis church!" "That doesn't make a damned bit of difference, boys. The radre knew ranama. He knows me. He will d0 itif we're lucky enough to catch nim." Dr Cai-pv called up the padre and was locky. At least the padre was at home. As to his cominsr-that cominsr-that was something else ngiin. Carpy Car-py held him long on the wire; be |