Enoch’s pulse leaped.  With sudden strength, he bent to his oars, and the Ida slid softly upon the sandy shore.  As she did so, two figures came running through the rain.

“Diana!” cried Enoch, making no attempt for a moment to step from the boat.

“Oh, what has happened!” exclaimed Diana, putting a hand under Milton’s head as he struggled to raise it.

“Just a broken leg, Miss Allen,” he said, his parched lips parting in a smile.  “Have Forr and Hard turned up?”

“No!  And Curly and Mack aren’t here, either!  O you poor things!  Here, let me help!  Na-che, take hold of this stretcher, there, on the other side with the Judge and Jonas.  Finished short of grub, didn’t you!  Let’s bring Mr. Milton right up to the cabin.”

The cabin consisted of but one room with an adobe fireplace at one end and bunks on two sides.  There was a warm glow of fire and the smell of meat cooking.  They laid Milton tenderly on a bunk and as they did so Jonas gave a great sob: 

“Welcome home, I say, boss, welcome home!”

CHAPTER XIII

GRANT’S CROSSING

“Perfect memories!  They are more precious than hope, more priceless than dreams of the future.”—­Enoch’s Diary.

“Now, every one of you get into dry clothes as quickly as you can,” said Diana.  “No!  Don’t one of you try to stir from the cabin!  Come, Na-che, we’ll bring the men’s bags up and go out to our tent while they shift.”

The two women were gone before the men could protest.  They were back with the bags in a few moments and in almost less time than it takes to tell, the crew of the Ida was reclothed, Enoch in the riding suit that Jonas had left with some of his own clothes in Na-che’s care.  When this was done, Na-che put on the coffee pot, while Diana served each of them with a plate of hot rabbit stew.

“Don’t try to talk,” she said, “until you get this down.  You’d better help Mr. Milton, Na-che.  Here, it will take two of us.  Oh, you poor dear!  You’re burning with fever.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” protested Milton, weakly, as, with his head resting on Diana’s arm, he sipped the teaspoonsful of stew Na-che fed him.  “This is as near heaven as I want to get.”

“I should hope so!” grunted Agnew.  “Jonas, don’t ever try to put up a stew in competition with Na-che again.”

“Not me, sir!” chuckled Jonas.  “That gal can sure cook!”

“And make charms,” added Enoch.  “Don’t fail to realize that you’re still alive, Jonas.”

“I’m going to bathe Mr. Milton’s face for him,” said Na-che, with a fine air of indifference.  “I can set a broken leg, too.”

“It’s set,” said Agnew and Enoch together, “but,” added Enoch, “that isn’t saying that Milton mustn’t be gotten to a doctor with all speed.”

Diana nodded.  “Where are Mr. Forrester and Mr. Harden?” she asked.