into the house. Then she glanced
down at her own clothing. She was still clad in the riding suit which
had become her daily wear. The survey seemed to satisfy her, for she
left the veranda at a run, and made her way toward the barn.

Perhaps five minutes later she, too, became lost in the growing
twilight, and her horse's hoofs awoke anew the echoes of the place.
But her way did not lie in the track of the others. Her horse was
racing headlong in the direction of Nan's home.

Bud and Nan were just finishing their supper when Elvine broke in upon
them. She came with a rush and a clatter which brought Nan out on to
the veranda in hurry of anxious inquiry. Bud was behind her, but his
movements lacked her impulse.

Elvine was out of the saddle. She stood on the veranda, a figure of
wild-eyed appeal.

"Jeff! Oh, he's gone. Nan, they'll--they'll kill him! I know it.
I'm certain. And I warned him. I warned him. But--oh!"

She covered her face with her hands. It was a movement inspired by the
memory of his scorn.

Nan's responsive heart was caught by the other's emotion. But above it
leaped a fear which she was powerless to deny. Jeff? Jeff in danger?
She flung out an arm. Her small hand gripped the other with a force
that was incredible.

"What d'you mean?" she cried, almost fiercely. "Don't stand there like
a fool. Who is going to harm Jeff?"

The sharp authority, so prompt, so unexpected, dragged the distraught
woman into some command of herself. She raised her head. Her eyes
were hot with unshed tears. They looked into Nan's, so urgent, yet so
full of a steadfast sanity.

"It's Sikkem," she cried, steadying herself. "He's sent in to say he's
badly shot up. He says he's located the rustlers' camp and must hand
Jeff the news before--while he has time. Jeff's gone out there,
and--Sikkem's one of the gang and escaped from Orrville four years ago."

"How d'you know?" It was Bud's heavy voice put the question. It was
full of stern command.

"I've seen him. I know him, and--he knows me. He--he wrote this and
sent it me."

Elvine thrust the crumpled note at Bud. Her gesture was almost
desperate.

"When did he send it?" Again came Bud's command.

"Days ago."

"An' Jeff--didn't know till--now?"

"I was afraid to tell him--then."

Bud and Nan read the note by the parlor lamplight. A bitter
imprecation broke from the man's lips.

"Guess I don't get it--yet," he said.

But Nan