b, with a Winchester, had been standing on guard. By the light of the
fire she saw her father's giant frame stretched out on the bed and she
heard his laboured breathing. Swiftly she went to the bed and dropped on
her knees beside it.

"Dad!" she said. The old man's eyes opened and turned heavily toward
her.

"All right, Juny. They shot me from the laurel and they might nigh got
Bub. I reckon they've got me this time."

"No--no!" He saw her eyes fixed on the matted blood on his chest.

"Hit's stopped. I'm afeared hit's bleedin' inside." His voice had
dropped to a whisper and his eyes closed again. There was another
cautious "Hello" outside, and when Bub again opened the door Dave ran
swiftly within. He paid no attention to June.

"I follered June back an' left my hoss in the bushes. There was three of
'em." He showed Bub a bullet hole through one sleeve and then he turned
half contemptuously to June:

"I hain't done it"--adding grimly--"not yit. He's as safe as you air. I
hope you're satisfied that hit hain't him 'stid o' yo' daddy thar."

"Are you going to the Gap for a doctor?"

"I reckon I can't leave Bub here alone agin all the Falins--not even to
git a doctor or to carry a love-message fer you."

"Then I'll go myself."

A thick protest came from the bed, and then an appeal that might have
come from a child.

"Don't leave me, Juny." Without a word June went into the kitchen and
got the old bark horn.

"Uncle Billy will go," she said, and she stepped out on the porch. But
Uncle Billy was already on his way and she heard him coming just as she
was raising the horn to her lips. She met him at the gate, and without
even taking the time to come into the house the old miller hurried
upward toward the Lonesome Pine. The rain came then--the rain that the
tiny cobwebs had heralded at dawn that morning. The old step-mother had
not come home, and June told Bub she had gone over the mountain to see
her sister, and when, as darkness fell, she did not appear they knew
that she must have been caught by the rain and would spend the night
with a neighbour. June asked no question, but from the low talk of Bub
and Dave she made out what had happened in town that day and a wild
elation settled in her heart that John Hale was alive and unhurt--though
Rufe was dead, her father wounded, and Bub and Dave both had but
narrowly escaped the Falin assassins that afternoon. Bub took the first
turn at watching while Dave slept, an