Singleton's car came whirling down the lane. Billie leaped from it
before it stopped, and ran in horror to the prone figure. One of the
older Mexicans tried to ward her off from the sight.

"No good, senorita, it is the death of him," he said gently. "One
stroke like that on the heart and it is--_adios_!"

"What in the name of God--" began Singleton, and Kit wiped the blood
from his eyes and faced him, staggering and breathless.

"Get him water! Get busy!" he ordered. "I don't think he's done for,
not unless he has some mighty weak spot he should have had labelled
before he waded into this."

The blood was still trickling from the cut in his head made by the
wrench, and he presented an unholy appearance as they stared at him.

"I'll explain, Singleton, for I reckon you are white. I'll--after
while----"

"You'll explain nothing to me!" retorted Singleton "If the man dies
you'll explain to a jury and a judge; otherwise you'd better take
yourself out of this country."

Kit blinked at those who were lifting Conrad and listening to his
heart, which evidently had not stopped permanently.

"But give me a chance, man!" persisted Rhodes. "I need some mending
done on this head of mine,--then I'll clear it up. Why, the evidence
is right here--powdered glass for the stock at the far end of the
trail--Herrara knows--Conrad's game--and----"

He did not know why words were difficult and the faces moved in
circles about him. The blood soaking his shirt and blouse, and
dripping off his sleeve was cause enough, but he did not even know
that.

"Take him away, Captain Pike," said Singleton coldly. "He is not
wanted any longer on either of the ranches. It's the last man I hire,
Conrad can do it in future."

"Conrad, eh?" grunted Kit weakly, "you're a nice easy mark for the
frankfurter game,--you and your pacifist bunch of near-traitors! Why
man----"

But Singleton waved him away, and followed the men who were carrying
Conrad to the bunk house.

"All right, _all_ right! But take care you don't meet with a nastier
accident than that before you are done with this game!" he said
shaking his fist warningly after Singleton, and then he staggered to
his horse where Pike was waiting for him.

He got in the saddle, and reeled there a moment, conscious of hostile,
watchful eyes,--and one girl's face all alone in the blur.

"Say," he said, "I heard you scream. You thought it was you I swore
at. You're wrong there. But you are som