"Only a sprain?" asked Knight in an injured tone. "Then what makes it hurt so like the mischief?"

"A sprain hurts worse than a fracture, sometimes, but it is less serious and will heal quicker," said the doctor. "I've just the right thing here and will fix you up in no time."

The next five minutes were bad ones for the sufferer; Sarah and Blue Bonnet knew it, though they still stared off over the meadow and tried to chat unconcernedly, while the hurried breathing of the boy continued.

"There you are!" The girls turned to see the young man viewing his work and the neat bandage with approval, while Knight, with his lips still trembling, looked up at him with forced cheerfulness. "You'll have to keep it still for a few days,--wish we had some sort of a sling." Abbott knit his brow.

Knight touched the bandanna about his neck. "How about this?"

Abbott tried it but found it too short. Blue Bonnet had one of her sudden inspirations. Diving down underneath the seat she fished up one of the many packages. Under the interested eyes of the others she opened it and then held up something bright and silky.

"Your red sash!" gasped Sarah.

"Will it do?" Blue Bonnet asked the doctor anxiously.

"Just the thing!" he exclaimed; and in a minute had slung his patient's arm in the scarlet folds of the sash.

"I say," Knight protested, "I hate like everything to take this from you, Miss Ashe."

Blue Bonnet gave him a bright smile. "I'm very glad to have it prove so useful. Sarah called me frivolous when I bought it."

The boy looked uncomfortable but was forced to submit, vowing inwardly that he would buy her the "fanciest article in the sash line" that Chicago could boast, to make up for the loss of her finery.

"Now, my friend," said the young surgeon, as he gathered up his instrument case in a professional manner, "I must see that wrist in the morning. Where are you staying?"

The youth colored; it was evident that he had expected an invitation to stay with his friend. Blue Bonnet spoke up at once: "You must come with us to the ranch. Uncle would never forgive me if I let you stay anywhere else."

"Sorry I can't ask you to stay with me," Abbott said, observing the boy's confusion. "But I've only a cot built for one, you know. You'll be a heap more comfortable at the Blue Bonnet ranch than in my quarters. I'll ride over in the morning and take a look at you."

With the matter thus taken out of his hands, Knight had to submit.

"It's mighty good of you," he said to Blue Bonnet.

"Not at all," she returned heartily. "I'd have to do a great deal to get even!"

"That wasn't anything," he protested. Then, turning to the doctor, he remarked with a return of his usual humor: "So long, Doc--hope you haven't injured me for life. Bring over your bill in the morning!"

CHAPTER VII

A FALLING OUT

IT was quite late when they reached the ranch, and an anxious crowd was awaiting them on the veranda. Blue Bonnet wished there were rather fewer people there; it was tiresome to make explanations before such an audience. Besides, she did not know the visitor's name,--introductions had been of a rather sketchy sort that day. Suddenly she made up her mind: she would explain nothing just then, and trust to her grandmother's ready tact to understand her reasons.

"This is--" Blue Bonnet looked at the youth inquiringly.

"--Knight Judson," he supplied.

"--and he's met with an accident and will stay here till his arm is better," she said rather breathlessly to her uncle.

"Very glad to have you, I'm sure," said Uncle Cliff with ready, outstretched hand.

Knight Judson took the proffered hand with an air of relief. "You're very kind, sir," he stammered.

"Not at all," Mr. Ashe protested cordially. "Come right in to supper."

They all went in without further ceremony to the delayed supper which Juanita stood waiting to serve; and the meal progressed in the usual gay fashion that prevailed at the ranch. Knight Judson was placed between Alec and Uncle Cliff, and in that congenial company the youth lost his shyness and was soon chatting away like an old friend. The awkwardness of eating with one hand gave him occasional bad moments, but little services, rendered un.o.bserved by his attentive neighbors, tided over even these trying times.

The girls stole occasional glances down to that end of the table, which were promptly frowned upon by Blue Bonnet and Sarah. On the whole, they acted rather well considering the strain on their curiosity; it was not every day that a good-looking young chap, wearing a bright red sash for a sling, appeared at the ranch.

It was not until after supper, when Alec had taken the visitor to his room, that the others heard the whole story of the day's adventure.

Sarah and Blue Bonnet told it almost together, a rather incoherent but wholly thrilling tale, while the rest of the girls hung breathlessly on the recital. Mrs. Clyde look worried when Sarah dwelt on the peril that had threatened the two of them; Blue Bonnet wished Sarah had not found it necessary to enlarge on that part of it. She, herself, preferred to describe young Judson's skill and quickness, his wonderful daring, and heroism under pain.

"Judson, Judson," repeated Sarah, wrinkling up her brow. "Where have I heard that name before?"

Blue Bonnet thought deeply for a moment. "I know," she cried; "don't you remember Carita, Carita Judson,--my missionary girl!"

"I wonder if they're related!" exclaimed Sarah. "She lives in Texas, you know."

"We must ask him in the morning," said Blue Bonnet.

Early the next day Mr. Ashe despatched one of the Mexicans with a letter from Knight Judson to his uncle at the Big Spring.

"Tell him not to expect you until he sees you," Mr. Ashe admonished the youth. "You must stay until that wrist is perfectly well."

"You're very good, sir," replied Knight warmly. He was not at all averse to spending any length of time in this pleasant place; he and Alec had fraternized at once, and he welcomed the chance to know the bright Eastern boy better; as for the girls, there were too many of them, he thought.

At breakfast Blue Bonnet opened fire on him.

"Carita!" he exclaimed. "Am I any relation to her? Well, I guess yes--she's my cousin! Do you know her?"

"I don't exactly know her," Blue Bonnet confessed, "--but we have--corresponded." She stopped abruptly; it was impossible to tell Knight about the missionary box; he might feel sensitive about it.

Happily Sarah came to the rescue.

"Father knows the Reverend Mr. Judson," she remarked. "Is he your uncle?"

"Yes,--and Carita's father," he explained. "You see, Uncle Bayard has charge of a summer camp for boys up at the Big Spring; he has had it for several years,--we have wonderful times there. A few days ago I had a letter from my cousin George in Chicago asking me to look up his friend Abbott, who had been ordered to Texas for his health. Abbott was at the Spring with us last summer, but it didn't agree with him, so he came to Kooch's. I was on my way there when--"

"When!" exclaimed Kitty dramatically. "We've heard what happened. We ought to have known better than to let a tenderfoot like Blue Bonnet go off with no protector but Sarah."

"It wasn't Blue Bonnet's fault," protested Sarah indignantly. "I was driving."

"And I suppose you drive as scientifically as you swim?" mocked Kitty.

Knight looked up with twinkling eyes; evidently the We are Sevens were not all of Sarah's type. Blue Bonnet he had already put in a cla.s.s by herself.