water fetched me back. Seven miles in half an hour ye say, an it 'ud take a man afoot three hours if he was in prime shape. Took me nigher eight, I reckon. Lemme turn thet crank fer ye."
Sunshine Sanitarium was a spotless and orderly array of tents about a main building of one story. It was built at the head of Clear Creek Cañon so as to enjoy the altitude of the plateau and the view of Verde Valley. Springs gave it lawns and shrubbery and flower beds. It did not seem a place of forlorn hopes nor of creeping invalids. Even with the advanced cases, the rareness of the air and the strict restrictions as to action and diet kept the wounded lungs scarred over if not healed. And Sunshine Sanitarium, where the tent flaps were raised high every night to let in the cold and healing night air, turned out many cures under the open-air programme of Doctor Seward.
Evidently the girl was a favourite with the linen-clad, spectacled man who met them as they turned in from the desert to the driveway that led to the main building. It was flanked by the verdant turf that marked the sharp demarcation established by the presence and use of water. In a few words she explained the situation and the doctor had taken it in.
"By all means. Miss Furniss," he said. "Take him to your tent. You can move up to the main building as we planned for these last few days of yours. And we can find a spare tent for these men. We'll drive them up to the house first and Mrs.
