lad, to whom Diane's appeal for his mother and sister was
irresistible.

"Thank you, Miss Diane," he said, with a profound sigh. "Your kind
heart has seen where my anger has been blind. Yes, I will return and
help my mother. And I thank you, sir," he went on, turning reluctantly
to face the stare of the rancher's eyes again. "You, too, have plainly
shown me my duty, and I shall follow it, but--if ever----"

"And you'll do well," broke in Jake, with a rough laugh that jarred
terribly. "Your father's paid his pound. If his son's wise, he'll hunt
his hole."

Archie's eyes flashed ominously. Diane saw the look, and, in an
instant, drew his attention to his horse, which was moving off toward
the barn.

"See, Archie," she said, with a gentle smile, "your horse is weary,
and is looking for rest."

The boy read her meaning. He held out his hand impulsively, and the
girl placed hers into it. In a moment his other had closed over it,
and he shook it tenderly. Then, without a word, he made off after his
horse.

The blind man's face was turned in his direction as he went, and when
the sound of his footsteps had died away, he turned abruptly and
tapped his way back to the door. At the threshold he turned upon the
foreman.

"Two days in succession I have been disturbed," he gritted out. "You
are getting past your work, Jake Harnach."

"Father----" Diane started forward in alarm, but he cut her short.

"And as for you, miss, remember your place in my house. Go, look to
your duties. Sweep, wash, cook, sew. Those are the things your sex is
made for. What interest have you, dare you have, in that brainless
boy? Let him fight his own battles. It may make a man of him; though I
doubt it. He is nothing to you."

Diane shrank before the scathing blast of that sightless fury. But she
rallied to protest.

"It is the women-folk, father."

"Women-folk? Bah!"

He threw up his hands in ineffable scorn, and shuffled away into the
house.

Jake, still smarting under the attack, stood leaning against the
verandah post. He was looking away down at the bunkhouse, where a
group of the men were gathered about Archie Orr, who, seated on his
horse, was evidently telling his tale afresh.

Diane approached him. He did not even turn to meet her.

"Jake, I want Bess at once. Hitch her to the buckboard, and have her
sent round to the kitchen door."

"What are you goin' to do, my girl?" he asked, without shifting his
gaze.

"Maybe I s