New Mexico state record. (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1914-19??, 1921-02-25

her fathers life fell wholly into her
hands. His broken body could not be
carried over the mountain road to
physicians in the valleys. They must
be transported to the ranch. Ii would
take them a full DAY to make the trip,
even If she could get word to them at
once: and t~Wenty-fOur hours without
medical attention would probably cost
her father his life. The neare.t tele-
phone WAS ut the ranger station.
twelve miles distant over n mountain
trail. The telephone line to Bald
mountain. four miles Oh, had been dis
connected when the rains had ended
the peril of the forest fire.
Ii all depended upon her. Bill was
driving cattle into the valleys, and he
and his men had in use all the horses
on the ranch with one exception. The
remaining horse had been ridden by
Dan 10 some distant marshes. and as
Dan would shoot until sunset, that
meant he would not return until ten
o'clock. There was no road for a car
to the ranger station only a rough
steep trail, and she remembered, with
a sinking heart, that one Of Bilrs mis-
sions in the valley was to procure a
new lighting system. BY no c0nceiy-
able possibility could she drive iown
that mountain road in the darkness.
But she was somewhat relieved by the
thought that in all probability she
could walk twelve miles across the
mountains to the ranger station In
much less time than she could drive,
by automobile. seventy miles down to
valley.
Besides, she remembered with a
gladdeniug heart that Richards. one
of the rangers, had been a student at
II medical college and had taken a po-
sition with the forest service TO re-
gain his health. She would cross the
ridge to the station, phone for a doc
tor in the valleys, and would return
on horseback with Richards for such
first aid rs he could give. The only
ll'iltlh lllll ltlllililti was lIdl VI
getting her father into the house.
lie was stirring a little now, Evil
IDENTITY consciousness was returning to
him. And then she thanked heaven
for the few simple lessons in first aid
that her father had taught her in the
days before carelessneSs had come
upon him. One of his lessons had
been that of carrying an unconscious
human form-a method by which even
a m may carry, for a short dis
tance, a heavy man. 1t was approx
mately the method used In carrying
wounded in No Mans Land the body
thrown over the shoulders. one arm
through the fork of the legs to the
wounded mans hand. Her father was
not a particularly heavy man, and she
was an exceptionally strong young
woman. She knew at once that this
problem WAS solved.
The hardest part was lifting him to
her shoulders. only by calling upon
her last ounce Of strength, and tug
cling upward with her arms. was she
able 10 do it. But II was fairly easy,
n her desperation, to carry him down
he hill. What rest she got she took
py leaning against n tree, the limp
lody still cross her shoulders.
II was a distance of one hundred
Yards in all. No muscles but those
.rained by the outdoors, no lungs eX-
'ept those made strong by the noun
ain mir. could have stood that test.
She laid him on his own bed, on the
floor, and set his broken limbs
he best she could. She covered him
lp with thick, ileecy blankets. and set
bottle of whisky beside the bed.
Then she wrote a note to Dan and
aStened it upon one of the interior
loors.
She drew on her hob-nailed boots
sOrely for the steep climb
nd pocketed her pistol. She thrust n
of ierked venison into the
of her o IA and lighted the Ian
ern. The forest night had fallen, soft
M vibrant and tremulOus, over the
.cads of the dark trees when she
out.
.u~n Ipr- .rnH vsrY Art~Y-r