t.

"He's gone to kill Randerson!" she screamed shrilly. She did not seem to
see Ruth; the madness of hysterical fear was upon her; her eyes were
brilliant, wide and glaring. She was in her bare feet, but she darted
past Ruth, disregarding the rocks and miscellaneous litter that stretched
before her, reached Ruth's pony and flung herself into the saddle, her
lips moving soundlessly as she set the animal's head toward the path.

"You stay here!" she shouted to Ruth as the Flying W girl, stunned to
inaction by the other's manner, watched her. "I'm goin' to ketch dad. Oh,
durn him, the mis'able hot head!"

She hit the pony a vicious slap with a bare hand. It lunged, as the reins
loosened, reaching its best speed within a hundred yards, but urged to
increasing effort by voice and hand and heel, the girl leaning far over
its mane, riding as she had never ridden before. But up at the Flying W
ranchhouse, a tall, grim, bearded giant of a horseman was just
dismounting, his pony trembling because of heart-breaking effort.

* * * * *

Randerson had not seen Ruth, of course. But he had wondered much over her
whereabouts when he had been looking through the house for Uncle Jepson
and Aunt Martha. And when he had seen them out in the cottonwoods, back
of the house, he had supposed her to be with them. He was glad she was
not here, to make these last moments embarrassing. He would not disturb
her.

He found pencil and paper and wrote his resignation, sitting long over
it, but making it brief. It read:

"I'm going, ma'am. I've left Red Owen in charge. I'm wishing you luck."

"There, that's settled," he said, rising. "But I was hopin' it would be
different. Dreams are silly things--when they don't come true. I'll be
soured on girls, hereafter," he told himself, morosely.

He packed his war-bag. While engaged in this work he heard the sound of
hoofbeats, but he paid no attention, though he colored uncomfortably, for
he thought he had been wrong in thinking that Ruth had been in the
cottonwood grove, and that she had been away and was just returning. And
when he heard a soft tread downstairs he was certain that it was she, and
he reddened again. He stopped his work and sat silent, then he caught the
sound of footsteps on the stairs, for now he would have to face her. When
he saw the door of his room begin to swing slowly back, he got up, his
face grave, ready to deliver his resignation