"

Archie gulped down his rising emotion. But there was no life in his
answer--his words came in a tone of utter hopelessness.

"Yes, sir; shot down, I gather, in defense of our homestead."

The steady stare of the rancher's red eyes was hard to support. Archie
felt himself weaken before the personality of this man he had come to
see.

"Gather?"

The hardness of his greeting had now changed to the gentleness of tone
in which the blind man usually spoke. But the boy drew no confidence
from it while confronted by those unseeing eyes. It was Diane who
understood and replied for him.

"Yes; Archie was in Forks last night, on business, father. He only
learned what had happened on returning home this afternoon. He--he
wants some help."

"Yes, sir," Archie went on quickly; "only a little help. I came home
to find our homestead burned clean out. Not a roof left to shelter my
mother and sister, and not one living beast left upon the place,
except the dogs. Oh, my God, it is awful! Mother and Alice were
sitting beside the corral gate weeping fit to break their hearts over
the dead body of father when I found them. And the story, as I learned
it, sir, was simple--horribly, terribly simple. They were roused at
about two in the morning by the dogs barking. Father, thinking timber
wolves were around, went out with a gun. He saw nothing till he got to
the corrals. Then mother, watching from her window, saw the flash of
several guns, and heard the rattle of their reports. Father dropped.
Then the gang of murderers roused out the stock, and some drove it
off, while others wantonly fired the buildings. It was Red Mask, sir,
for he came up to the house and ordered mother out before the place
was fired. She is sure it was him because of his mask. She begged him
not to burn her home, but the devil had no remorse; he vouchsafed only
one reply. Maybe she forced him to an answer with her appeal; maybe he
only spoke to intimidate others who might hear of his words from her.
Anyway, he said, 'Your man and you open your mouths too wide around
this place. Manson Orr wrote in to the police, and asked for
protection. You won't need it now, neither will he.'" He paused, while
the horror of his story sank deeply into the heart of at least one of
his hearers. Then he went on with that eager, nervous fire he had at
first displayed: "Mr. Marbolt, I look to you to help me. I've got
nothing to keep me now from following this devil of a man. I want