me--what will I care for my ranch?"
murmured Helen.

"Reckon you'll only begin to care when thet happens. Your big hunter has
got to be put to work," replied Roy, with his keen smile.

Before noon that day the baggage Helen had packed at home was left on
the porch of Widow Cass's cottage, and Helen's anxious need of the hour
was satisfied. She was made comfortable in the old woman's one spare
room, and she set herself the task of fortitude and endurance.

To her surprise, many of Mrs. Cass's neighbors came unobtrusively to
the back door of the little cottage and made sympathetic inquiries. They
appeared a subdued and apprehensive group, and whispered to one another
as they left. Helen gathered from their visits a conviction that the
wives of the men dominated by Beasley believed no good could come of
this high-handed taking over of the ranch. Indeed, Helen found at the
end of the day that a strength had been borne of her misfortune.

The next day Roy informed her that his brother John had come down the
preceding night with the news of Beasley's descent upon the ranch. Not a
shot had been fired, and the only damage done was that of the burning of
a hay-filled barn. This had been set on fire to attract Helen's men to
one spot, where Beasley had ridden down upon them with three times their
number. He had boldly ordered them off the land, unless they wanted to
acknowledge him boss and remain there in his service. The three Beemans
had stayed, having planned that just in this event they might be
valuable to Helen's interests. Beasley had ridden down into Pine the
same as upon any other day. Roy reported also news which had come in
that morning, how Beasley's crowd had celebrated late the night before.

The second and third and fourth days endlessly wore away, and Helen
believed they had made her old. At night she lay awake most of the time,
thinking and praying, but during the afternoon she got some sleep. She
could think of nothing and talk of nothing except her sister, and Dale's
chances of saving her.

"Well, shore you pay Dale a pore compliment," finally protested the
patient Roy. "I tell you--Milt Dale can do anythin' he wants to do in
the woods. You can believe thet. ... But I reckon he'll run chances
after he comes back."

This significant speech thrilled Helen with its assurance of hope, and
made her blood curdle at the implied peril awaiting the hunter.

On the afternoon of the fifth day Helen was abruptl