lines.

"Mebbe Dale's been here! Mebbe he's still here!"

He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him. As though he
expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove
to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills. At the
edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled.

A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes
took on an expression of cold cunning.

Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral
fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side,
as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he
furtively watched the house.

He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well
spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the
kitchen windows.

It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a
flashing glance at the face.

Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no
other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For
if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would
have met him at the door, as she had always done.

And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his
presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the
kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows.

Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with. But haste
and recklessness would avail Nyland little. The great mingled rage and
anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it
down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the
kitchen door, his manner--outwardly--was that of a man who has seen
nothing to arouse his suspicions.

Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and
sinew of his body was tensed for instant action. And so, when he had
approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's
figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he
went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen.

So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he
was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway. And
the crash of his own gun followed the other so closely that the two
seemed almost instantaneous.

Nyland did not conclude his acrobatic performance with the dive.
Landing on the ground he rolled over and ov