urder. It was useless to run. She stood and waited, white to the lips,
but looking him in the face. The gun rose. Garland, recovering, sprang
at Blake. But at that instant the door went wide with the crash of a
shattered catch, and into the room bounded Angus Mackay.

He was hatless, wet, plastered with mud. His eyes blazed in his swarthy
face. At a glance they took in the disorder, the overturned table; Faith
standing at bay, Blake French with drawn gun, Garland suddenly arrested
in his spring. Then in grim, deadly silence he launched himself at
Blake.

Faith saw the gun shift and swing. Its report in the confines of the
room was shattering. Garland struck Blake's arm as the weapon blazed a
second time; but Angus staggered and pitched forward at Blake's feet.

Forgetful of all else Faith sprang forward and knelt beside him, lifting
his head. Blood oozed horribly from his dark hair. She turned her face,
white, anguished, to his slayer. Above her, Garland in panic cursed
Blake.

"Now you've done it!" he said between oaths. "You've killed him."

"She--she'll tell!" Blake chattered with quivering lips. "We've got
to--" He raised his gun with twitching hand. Garland caught it. He
thrust his own weapon in Blake's face.

"If you try that I'll blow your head off!" he declared. With a quick
wrench he twisted the weapon from Blake, and menacing him with his gun
shoved him toward the door. "We've got to make a get-away. Get the
horses, quick!" At the door he hesitated. Returning he knelt beside
Faith.

"Let me see a minute," he said. Her senses were too dulled to shrink
from him. Suddenly he drew a quick breath, almost a gasp of relief. "He
isn't dead."

"Not dead?" Faith cried.

"Not by a long ways. Just creased along the scalp. I guess I hit the gun
just in time, and I'm mighty near as glad as you are. He'll be all
right. I just want to say, before I pull out, that I never meant to do
more than scare you. Maybe you think I'm lying, and I don't blame you.
But I'm not."

"I believe you," Faith said. In her sudden relief lesser things did not
matter. "I don't know what to do. Stay and help me, please."

"I guess you don't understand," he returned, shaking his head. "This
would mean about twenty years apiece for me and Blake if we're caught.
And then"--he nodded at Angus--"when he comes around there won't be room
enough in this country for him and us."

"But I'll tell him you helped me--how you struck Blake's arm--an