. I swear it!"

Just for a second O'Reilly paused; then of a sudden his face flamed red
through his untrimmed beard.

"To hell with your money!" he blazed. "I wouldn't lift my finger for you
if How Landor were to come this second." He checked himself and took a
step forward meaningly. "Besides, I couldn't help you any if I would.
God himself couldn't protect you now unless He performed a miracle. Out
of my way. I tell you I'm done with you."

Craig had not stirred. He did not now; and of a sudden the overseer
turned to pass around. As he did so for the first time he faced the
single window that looked north toward the second ranch house: the house
which How Landor had builded to receive his bride. The curtain was still
down, but to the Irishman's quick eye there rested upon it now a dull
glow that was not a reflection of the light within. A second after he
noticed the man halted, looking at it, speculating as to its meaning.
Then of a sudden he realised; and in two steps he was across the room
and simultaneously the obscuring shade shot up with a crash. Instantly
following, startlingly unexpected, the red glow without sprang through
the glass and filled the room.

"Fire!" announced the observer involuntarily to the sleepers above. "The
other ranch house is afire!" Then, as they were slow in awakening, the
cry was repeated more loudly: "Fire! Fire!"

* * * * *

A conflagration is the universal contagion, the one excitement that
never palls. Forth into the night, forgetful of his companion, forgetful
of all save the interest of the moment, rushed O'Reilly. Half dressed,
hatless, working with buttons as they went, Parker, the new owner, and
Mead, the lawyer, descended the rickety stairs like an avalanche and
without pausing to more than look followed running in his wake. The
unused ranch house was dry as cardboard and was burning fiercely. Though
there was still no moon and the overseer had several minutes the start,
against the light they could see his running figure distinctly. Standing
in the living-room as they rushed through, white faced, hesitant, was
Clayton Craig; but though he had spoken to them--they both recalled that
fact afterward--neither had paused to listen or to answer. That he would
not follow never occurred to them until minutes thereafter. Not until,
panting, struggling for breath after the unusual effort, they had
covered the intervening mile, and the heat of the al