e room came a gurgle that was half a snore.

"Father," she whispered, and moved forward.

Her outstretched hand groped for the bed and fell on clothing warm with
heat transmitted from a human body. At the same time she subconsciously
classified a strong odor that permeated the atmosphere. It was whiskey.

The sleeper stirred uneasily beneath her touch. She felt stifled, wanted
to shout out her fears in a scream. Far beyond the need of proof she knew
now that something was very wrong, though she still could not guess
at what the dreadful menace was.

But Joyce had courage. She was what the wind and the sun and a long line
of sturdy ancestors had made her. She leaned forward toward the awakening
man just as he turned in the bunk.

A hand fell on her wrist and closed, the fingers like bands of iron.
Joyce screamed wildly, her nerve swept away in a reaction of terror. She
fought like a wildcat, twisting and writhing with all her supple strength
to break the grip on her arm.

For she knew now what the evil was that had been tolling a bell of
warning in her heart.

CHAPTER XLI

HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS

The change in the wind had cost three lives, but it had saved the Jackpot
property and the feed on the range. After the fire in San Jacinto Canon
had broken through Hart's defense by its furious and persistent attack,
nothing could have prevented it from spreading over the plains on a wild
rampage except a cloudburst or a decided shift of wind. This last had
come and had driven the flames back on territory already burnt over.

The fire did not immediately die out, but it soon began to dwindle. Only
here and there did it leap forward with its old savage fury. Presently
these sporadic plunges wore themselves out for lack of fuel. The
devastated area became a smouldering, smoking char showing a few isolated
blazes in the barren ruin. There were still possibilities of harm in them
if the wind should shift again, but for the present they were subdued to
a shadow of their former strength. It remained the business of the
fire-fighters to keep a close watch on the red-hot embers to prevent them
from being flung far by the breeze.

Fortunately the wind died down soon, reducing the danger to a minimum.

Dave handed back to Shorty the revolver he had borrowed so peremptorily
from his holster.

"Much obliged. I won't need this any more."

The cowpuncher spoke grimly. "I'm liable to."

"Mexico is a good country for a