about the gang?"

"All snuffed out, I reckon, except Wilson."

"Somebody told me Beasley hed ran Miss Helen off the ranch. Thet so?"

"Yes. Four of his greasers packed her down the hill--most tore her
clothes off, so Roy tells me."

"Four greasers!... Shore it was Beasley's deal clean through?"

"Yes. Riggs was led. He had an itch for a bad name, you know. But
Beasley made the plan. It was Nell they wanted instead of Bo."

Abruptly Carmichael stalked off down the darkening path, his silver
heel-plates ringing, his spurs jingling.

"Hold on, Carmichael," called Dale, taking a step.

"Oh, Tom!" cried Bo.

"Shore folks callin' won't be no use, if anythin would be," said Roy.
"Las Vegas has hed a look at red liquor."

"He's been drinking! Oh, that accounts!... he never--never even touched
me!"

For once Helen was not ready to comfort Bo. A mighty tug at her heart
had sent her with flying, uneven steps toward Dale. He took another
stride down the path, and another.

"Dale--oh--please stop!" she called, very low.

He halted as if he had run sharply into a bar across the path. When he
turned Helen had come close. Twilight was deep there in the shade of the
peach-trees, but she could see his face, the hungry, flaring eyes.

"I--I haven't thanked you--yet--for bringing Bo home," she whispered.

"Nell, never mind that," he said, in surprise. "If you must--why, wait.
I've got to catch up with that cowboy."

"No. Let me thank you now," she whispered, and, stepping closer, she put
her arms up, meaning to put them round his neck. That action must be her
self-punishment for the other time she had done it. Yet it might also
serve to thank him. But, strangely, her hands got no farther than his
breast, and fluttered there to catch hold of the fringe of his buckskin
jacket. She felt a heave of his deep chest.

"I--I do thank you--with all my heart," she said, softly. "I owe you
now--for myself and her--more than I can ever repay."

"Nell, I'm your friend," he replied, hurriedly. "Don't talk of repayin'
me. Let me go now--after Las Vegas."

"What for?" she queried, suddenly.

"I mean to line up beside him--at the bar--or wherever he goes,"
returned Dale.

"Don't tell me that. _I_ know. You're going straight to meet Beasley."

"Nell, if you hold me up any longer I reckon I'll have to run--or never
get to Beasley before that cowboy."

Helen locked her fingers in the fringe of his jacket--leaned closer to
him, al