steadily toward the cabin,
searching for signs of life on the porch. But though he could see
clearly--even into the shadows from a rambling rose bush that clung to
the eaves of the roof--no human figure appeared on the porch.

Certainly Nellie must have a visitor. But who? He was not aware that the
Hazeltons had made friends with anyone in the neighborhood besides
himself and the Nortons. He smiled. Probably some cowboy from the Circle
Bar had been in the vicinity looking for Hazelton's cattle, had met
Nellie, and had stopped at the cabin. He remembered to have heard Norton
say that he was sending a man in that direction some time that day.

That must be the explanation. But while he sat, debating the propriety
of riding down to the cabin to satisfy his curiosity, the sound of a
pistol shot floated to his ears on the slight breeze that was blowing
toward him.

He sat erect, his face paling. Then he smiled again. He had been in the
West long enough to become acquainted with the cowboy nature and he
surmised that Nellie's visitor was very likely exhibiting his skill with
the revolver. But he turned his pony and urged it down the sloping side
of the ridge, riding slowly in the direction of the cabin.

After striking the bottom of the slope he rode cut upon a broad level
that stretched away for half a mile. He made better time here and had
almost covered half the width of the plain when two more reports reached
his ears. He was close enough now to hear them distinctly and it seemed
to him that they sounded muffled. He halted the pony and sat stiffly in
the saddle, his gaze on the cabin. Then he saw a thin stream of
blue-white smoke issue from the doorway and curl lazily upward.

A grave doubt assailed him. No cowboy would be likely to exhibit his
skill with a weapon in the cabin! Nellie's visitor must be an unwelcome
one!

The pony felt the sudden spurs and raced like a whirlwind over the
remaining stretch of plain. Hollis had become suddenly imbued with a
suspicion that brought an ashen pallor to his face and an awful rage
into his heart. He slid his pony down one side of a steep arroyo, sent
it scrambling up the other side, jumped it over some rocks that littered
the rise, spurred savagely through a little basin, and reaching the edge
of the porch, dismounted and bounded to the door.

He saw two figures--Nellie Hazelton and a man. He saw the man's fingers
gripping the girl's throat and the lust of murder surged ove