he force of circumstances--just or not--was
fighting for what he considered were his rights--the accumulated results
of ten years of exile and work. She wanted to save him from this deed,
from the results of it, even though there was nothing but condemnation in
her heart for him because of it.

"To the left of the thicket is a slope," Mrs. Levins had told her. She
stopped only long enough to get her bearings, and at her panting, "Go!"
the horse leaped. They were at the crest of the slope quickly, facing the
bottom, yawning, deep, dark. She shut her eyes as the horse took it,
leaning back to keep from falling over the animal's head, holding tightly
to the pommel of the saddle. They got down, someway, and when she felt the
level under them she lashed the horse again, and urged him around a
shoulder of the precipitous wall that loomed above her, frowning and
somber.

She heard a horse whinny as she flashed past the shoulder, her own beast
tearing over the level with great catlike leaps, but she did not look
back, straining her eyes to peer into the darkness along the wall of the
butte for sight of the buildings and machinery.

She saw them soon after passing the shoulder, and exclaimed her thanks
sharply.

* * * * *

"All set," said one of the shadowy figures near the corrugated iron
building. A match flared, was applied to a stick of punk in the hands of
each man, and again they separated, each running, applying the glowing
wand here and there.

Trevison's work took him longest, and when he leaped from the side of a
mound of supplies Levins was already running back toward the shoulder
where they had left their horses. They joined, then split apart, their
weapons leaping into their hands, for they heard the rapid drumming of
horse's hoofs.

"They're coming!" panted Trevison, his jaws setting as he plunged on
toward the shoulder of the butte. "Run low and duck at the flash of their
guns!" he warned Levins.

A wide swoop brought the oncoming horse around the shoulder of the butte
into full view. As the moonlight shone, momentarily, on the rider,
Trevison cried out, hoarsely:

"God, it's a woman!"

He leaped, at the words, out of the shadow of the butte into the moonlight
of the level, straight into the path of the running horse, which at sight
of him slid, reared and came to a halt, snorting and trembling. Trevison
had recognized the girl; he flung himself at the horse,