t a bright crimson stain to the
sleeve he flung across his mouth. But all the while his eyes, full of
strange venomous triumph, never once left Stratton's face.

"Yuh see," he choked out finally, "the ranch--ain't--hers."

He paused, speechless; and Mary, looking down on him, felt merely that his
brain was wandering and found room in her heart to be a little sorry.

"Why ain't it hers?" demanded Bud with youthful impetuosity. "Her father
left it to her, an'--"

"It wasn't his to--to leave. He stole it." Lynch's voice was weaker, but
his eyes still glowed with hateful triumph. "He forged the
deed--from--from papers--Stratton left with him--when he went--to war." He
moistened his dry lips with his tongue. "When Stratton was--killed--he
didn't leave--no kin--to make trouble, an' Thorne--took a chance."

His voice faltered, ceased. Mary stared at him dumbly, a slow, oppressive
dread creeping into her heart. Little forgotten things flashed back into
her mind. Her father's financial reverses, his reticence about the
acquisition of the Shoe-Bar, the strange hold Lynch had seemed to have on
him, rose up to torment her. Suddenly she glanced quickly at Buck for
reassurance.

"It isn't so!" she cried. "It can't be. My father--"

Slowly the words died on her lips. There was love, tenderness, pity in the
man's eyes, but no--denial!

"Ain't it, though?" Lynch spoke in a labored whisper; his eyes were
glazing. "Yuh thinks--I'm--loco. I--ain't. It's--gospel truth. Yuh find
Quinlan, the--the witness. No, Quinlan's dead. It's--it's--Kaylor.
Kaylor got--got-- What was I sayin'." He plucked feebly at his
chap-belt. "I know. Kaylor got--a clean thousand for--for swearin'--the
signature--was--Stratton's. Yuh find Kaylor. Hardenberg ... thumbscrew
... the truth...."

The low, uneven whisper merged into a murmur; then silence fell, broken
only by the labored breathing of the dying man. Dazed, bewildered,
conscious of a horrible conviction that he spoke the truth, Mary stood
frozen, struggling against a wave of utter weariness and despair that
surged over her. She felt the arm about her tighten, but for some strange
reason the realization brought her little comfort.

Suddenly Hardenberg broke the silence. He had been watching the girl, and
could no longer bear the misery in her white, strained face.

"You think you've turned a smart trick, don't you?" he snapped with angry
impulsiveness. "As a matter of fact the ranch belongs to him