“It wouldn’t surprise me,” replied Dick, thoughtfully.  But he was not thinking of material wealth.  Then, as he viewed his stained and torn shirt, he laughed and said “Belding, while I’m getting rich I’d like to have some respectable clothes.”

“We’ve a little Mex store in town, and what you can’t get there the women folks will make for you.”

When Dick lay down he was dully conscious of pain and headache, that he did not feel well.  Despite this, and a mind thronging with memories and anticipations, he succumbed to weariness and soon fell asleep.

It was light when he awoke, but a strange brightness seen through what seemed blurred eyes.  A moment passed before his mind worked clearly, and then he had to make an effort to think.  He was dizzy.  When he essayed to lift his right arm, an excruciating pain made him desist.  Then he discovered that his arm was badly swollen, and the hand had burst its bandages.  The injured member was red, angry, inflamed, and twice its normal size.  He felt hot all over, and a raging headache consumed him.

Belding came stamping into the room.

“Hello, Dick.  Do you know it’s late?  How’s the busted fist this morning?”

Dick tried to sit up, but his effort was a failure.  He got about half up, then felt himself weakly sliding back.

“I guess—­I’m pretty sick,” he said.

He saw Belding lean over him, feel his face, and speak, and then everything seemed to drift, not into darkness, but into some region where he had dim perceptions of gray moving things, and of voices that were remote.  Then there came an interval when all was blank.  He knew not whether it was one of minutes or hours, but after it he had a clearer mind.  He slept, awakened during night-time, and slept again.  When he again unclosed his eyes the room was sunny, and cool with a fragrant breeze that blew through the open door.  Dick felt better; but he had no particular desire to move or talk or eat.  He had, however, a burning thirst.  Mrs. Belding visited him often; her husband came in several times, and once Nell slipped in noiselessly.  Even this last event aroused no interest in Dick.

On the next day he was very much improved.

“We’ve been afraid of blood poisoning,” said Belding.  “But my wife thinks the danger’s past.  You’ll have to rest that arm for a while.”

Ladd and Jim came peeping in at the door.

“Come in, boys.  He can have company—­the more the better—­if it’ll keep him content.  He mustn’t move, that’s all.”

The cowboys entered, slow, easy, cool, kind-voiced.

“Shore it’s tough,” said Ladd, after he had greeted Dick.  “You look used up.”

Jim Lash wagged his half-bald, sunburned head, “Musta been more’n tough for Rojas.”

“Gale, Laddy tells me one of our neighbors, fellow named Carter, is going to Casita,” put in Belding.  “Here’s a chance to get word to your friend the soldier.”