hall drive over to see those poor women."

"Maybe?"

"Yes."

"You can't have her."

Jake turned, and looked down at her from his great height. Archie Orr
had just ridden off.

Diane returned his look fearlessly, and there was something in the
directness of her gaze that made the giant look away.

"I think I can," she said quietly. "Go and see to it now."

The man started. It seemed as if he were about to bluster. His bold,
black eyes flashed ominously, and it was plain from his attitude that
a flat and harsh refusal was on his lips. But somehow he didn't say
it. The brutality of his expression slowly changed as he looked at
her. A gentle light stole slowly, and it seemed with difficulty, into
his eyes, where it looked as out of place as the love-light in the
eyes of a tiger. But there was no mistaking it. However incongruous it
was there, and the lips that had been framing a cruel retort merely
gave utterance to a quiet acquiescence.

"All right. I'll send her round in five minutes."

And Diane went into the house at once.

Meanwhile, a great discussion of young Orr's affairs was going on at
the bunkhouse. Arizona had vacated his favorite seat, and was now
holding the floor. His pale face was flushed with a hectic glow of
excitement. He was taxing his little stock of strength to the
uttermost, and, at least, some of those looking on listening to him
knew it.

"I tell you ther' ain't nothin' fer it but to roll up to old blind
hulks an' ast him to send us out. Ef this dog-gone skunk's let be,
ther' ain't no stock safe. Guess I've had my med'cine from 'em, and
I'm jest crazy fer more. I've had to do wi' fellers o' their kidney
'fore, I guess. We strung six of 'em up in a day on the same tree down
Arizona way, as that gray-headed possum, Joe Nelson, well remembers.
Say, we jest cleaned our part o' that country right quick. Guess ther'
wa'n't a 'bad man' wuth two plugs o' nickel chawin' around when we'd
finished gettin' 'em. Say, this feller's played it long enough, an'
I'm goin' right now to see the boss. He's around. Who's comin'?"

"Yes, an' Archie Orr's a pore sort o' crittur to git left wi' two
women-folk," said Raw Harris, rising from his upturned bucket and
putting forth his argument, regardless of its irrelevance. "Not a
stick to shelter him--which I mean 'them.' An' not a dog-gone cent
among 'em. By G----, Arizona's right."

"That's it," put in Joe Nelson; "you've hit it. Not a dog-gone cent
among