move, or you may bring it on again."

"I remember--now. I fired--low--and he--got me. Where's Friar Tuck?"

"Your horse? He's in the corral at San Pasqual, and your gun is in the
kitchen with your spurs, and your hat--why, I guess I forgot to bring
your hat with me. But don't worry about it. I'm Donna Corblay of the
Hat Ranch, and I'll give you your choice of a hundred hats if you'll
only get well."

"Are you--the--girl--that kissed me?"

Donna's voice was very low, her face was very close to his as she
answered him. His lean brown hand stole confidingly into hers--for a
long time he was silent, content to lie there and know that she was
near him.

Presently he looked up at her again, with the same dominating, wistful
entreaty in his brown eyes. She lowered her head until her cheek rested
against his, and his arm went upward and around her neck.

"God--made you--for me" he whispered. "I love you, and my name is Bob
McGraw. I guess--I'll--get well."

"Beloved," she breathed, "of course you'll get well. I want you to."
She smoothed the wavy auburn hair back from his forehead. "Go to sleep"
she commanded. "You can't talk to me any more. I'm going to go to
sleep, too."

She drew a bright Mexican serape over her shoulders, sat down in a