the burden of his bitterness.

But if he were indifferent to his surroundings, the man riding hard
behind him moved with eyes and ears fully alert. That which he was
seeking would have been impossible to tell. Nevertheless every shadow
seemed to possess interest, every night sound to possess some quality
worth remarking. Not for an instant, after the hills had been entered,
did his vigilance relax.

Spruce Crossing lay deep in the hills, a clearing to the south of the
junction of converging mountain streams. It was a mere cattle station,
neither better nor worse than several others lying on the outskirts of
the Obar territory. Yet it was important that it headed a valley
running north and south amongst the hills, where the grass was sweet,
and rich, and fattening, one of those surprise natural pastures which
the hills love to yield occasionally to those who seek out their wealth.

A glimmer of light, like some distant star fallen to earth from its
velvet setting above, marked the station, house. It was visible at a
great distance down the flat stretch of the valley. The ranchman's
horse was headed directly for it, and the animal moved readily, eagerly
now, nor were the spurs needed to urge him further. The instinct of
its journey's end was sufficient to encourage its flagging spirits.

The distant light grew brighter. It took on the rectangular form of a
window opening in a log-built hut.

Jeffrey Masters had fixed his gaze upon it, and so the shadowy scene
about him passed all unnoticed. He saw nothing of the darker objects
lying on the ground adjacent to his way. The slumbering kine which
bore his brand remained all unheeded. He had no thought for them. His
course took him over a track which passed down a land between two
fenced pastures. These, too, were stocked with fattening steers, or
with the brood cows and their attendant calves. At another time, under
other conditions, these things would have held for him an absorbing
interest. Now they concerned him not at all.

The dark pastures gave place to a number of corrals, also lost in the
summer night. A dog barked. Then, in a moment, its sharp yelps became
silent, and the stillness became once more unbroken except for the hard
pounding hoofs of the two horsemen approaching.

A few moments later these sounds ceased as the dark outline of the
station house itself took shape.

For a few seconds Jeff gazed at the window opening where the light