Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-01-25
CHAPTER XII.
Fortune Kicks AGAIN.

TT was past noon when Ward rode
down the steep slope to the creek
bank just above his cabin. He was
sunk deep in that mental depression
which so often follows close upon the
heels of a great outburst of passion.
Mechanically he twitched the reins and
sent Rather down the last shelf of bank
and he did not look up to see just
where he was. Rather was a well train
ed horse, since he was Wards. He
obeyed the rein signal and stepped off a
two foot bank into a nest of loose piled
rocks that slid treacherously under his
feet. Sure footed, though he was, he
stumbled and fell, and it was sheer in
stinct that took Wards feet from the
stirrups In time.
Ward sprawled among the rocks,
dazed. The shock of the fall took him
out of his fit of abstraction and he
pulled away from Rather as the horse
scrambled up and stood shaking before
him. He tried to scramble up also.
Ward sat and stared stupidity at his
left leg where, midway Between his knee
and his foot, it turned out at an unnat-
ural angle. He thought resentfully that
he had had enough trouble for once
without having a broken leg on top of
it all.
"Now this is one deuce of a fix!' he
stated dispassionately, when pain had
in a measure cooled his first anger. He
looked around him like a man who is
taking stock of his resources. He was
not far from the cabin. He could get
there by crawling. But what then?
Ward looked at Rather, standing do
cilely within reach of his hand. He
considered getting on-if he could, and
riding-well, the nearest place was fif-
teen miles. And that was a good, long
way from a doctor. He glanced again
at the cabin and tried to study the sit
uation impersonally. If it were some
other fellow, now, what would Ward
advise him to do under the circum-
stances?
He reached down and felt his leg
gingerly. So far as he could tell it was
a straight, simple break-snapped short
off against a rock, he judged. He shook
his head over the thought of riding fif-
teen miles with those broken bones
grinding their edges together. And
still, what else could he do?
He reached out, took the reins and
led Rather a step nearer so that he
could grasp the stirrup. With his voice
he held the horse quiet while he pulled
himself upright upon his good leg.
Then, with pain hurried, jerky move
ments he pulled off the saddle, glanced
around him and flung it behind a buck
brush. He slipped off the bride, flung
that after the saddle and gave Rather
a slap on the rump. The horse moved
away and Ward stared after him with
set lips. anyway, you can look after
yourself" he said, and balanced upon
his right leg while he swung around
and faced the cabin. 1t was not far
to a man with two sound legs. A hum
dred yards, pe-haps.
Ward crawled there on his hands and
n knee, dragging the broken leg after
him. 1t was not a nice experience, but
it served one good purpose-it wiped
from his mind all thought of that black
past wherein Buck had figured so
shamefully. He had enough to think of
with his present plight, without wor-
rying over the past.
In half an hour or so Ward rested his
arms upon his own doorstep and drop
ped his perspiring face upon them. He