onrad shot himself while he was cleaning his gun."

"Oh!"

"It was hopeless from the first and she knew it, but she stayed alone with
him and sent the boy back to the ranch for a doctor. He died while they
were there alone."

Polly's eyes had tears in them. She was staring wistfully at the
mountains. "I'm trying to think what it would mean--being up there, alone,
with someone you loved who was dying," she said at last. "No wonder little
things don't bother a woman who's been through a thing like that."

"Yes, it's those things that make character, I guess," said Scott,
thoughtfully. "Or break it."

"Hasn't Mr. Hard ever been down there to see her?"

"No, there's a proud streak in Hard--or maybe he's got over his feeling
for her. He never would let her know he was in the country. I rather guess
Herrick planned this."

"I wonder? Oh, what is it? What do you see?" she cried, as she noticed
that Scott's attention was no longer on her, but was fastened upon the
dark foothills which rose between them and the mountains.

"I don't know; wish I had my glasses! Looks to me like fellows riding--do
you see 'em? Over there, coming through that darkish spot between the
foothills? Wonder if we're in for another row?"

"No--yes, it is! Coming this way!"

"Go in and tell them to put out the lights and stop that noise quick!"
Scott's voice was hard and sharp. Polly darted into the house. Scott
strained his eyes to watch the party of riders racking recklessly down the
dark roadway from the hills. "It can't be Pachuca!" he muttered. "He
wouldn't come back. It must be that damned young Angel. Well, I guess
we're in for trouble before daybreak."

"What is it?" Hard was at his elbow. Scott turned and saw that the house
was dark.

"It's a bunch on horseback--see, over yonder? They're making good time;
they'll be on us in half a minute. Where's Herrick?"

"Getting the rifles. Where are the horses?"

"In the pasture, up by the river. They'll not find them in a hurry."

"Hadn't we better have the women go up there, too?" said Hard, anxiously.

"I don't believe so. If they're bound for us, there's no time. I
think----"

"Mr. Scott," Clara Conrad's voice came softly from the dark doorway, "if
that's Angel Gonzales why can't we all go----"

"I don't know who it is, and the moon's too strong out there--they'd spot
you in a minute."

"But we can't sit here and do nothing!"

"You can do as you please." Scott's voice was ugly wi