ouched his cheek. She reined in
Blaze. Sandy stood beside her, straight and stern, his eyes implacable.

"He ain't fit to live," he went on. "I w'udn't be fit to go back to
Three Star where yore daddy lies an' know he was there in his grave
while I let that coyote go loose. I found the luck-piece on the floor of
the cabin, Molly, with a lock of yore hair he must have tore out, a
button an' a bit of yore dress he nigh tore off you. I was in hell when
I thought of you fightin' him off an' if I have to wade through it
knee-deep in flamin' sulphur I'm goin' to find that snake an' make sure
he quits trailin'. Why, it's my job, Molly. What w'ud you think of me if
I let him slide?"

"I know," she answered.

A horse whinnied from down the ravine. Blaze answered.

"That'll be Sam an' the boys, Molly." He cupped hands and sounded a
"Yahoo!"

The answer came back clear through the evening, multiplied by the rocks
about them.

"I'm afraid," she said.

"Afraid?"

"I know. I never was before. But...." She broke off, leaned swiftly down
from the saddle and kissed him.

"Come back to me soon, Sandy," she said.

CHAPTER XXI

THE END OF THE ROPE

Pronto had chosen his own trail and gait back to the Three Star. It was
Goldie that Sandy rode under the stars toward Nipple Peaks. He was
alone, refusing any company of Sam or the riders. Molly's last kiss had
been the key that turned in the lock of his heart and opened up to
reality the garden of his dreams where the two of them would walk
together, work together all their days. It could have meant nothing
else. And she had been afraid--for him. Plimsoll living was a blot upon
the fair page of happiness. Though Molly, thank God, had come through
unharmed, to Sandy the touch of Plimsoll was a defilement that could
only be wiped out by his death.

Nipple Peaks he knew by sight, two high mounds of bare granite above the
timber-line, barring the way to a jumbled country of peaks and ravines
and cross canyons among which lay Plimsoll's Hideout. Spur Rock he knew
only by rumor. That there was a pass between the peaks he did not doubt.
And he rode to meet Plimsoll coming down out of it. To have returned to
the Hideout and attempted to follow a rock trail by moonlight, despite
its brilliance, would have been sheer folly. Plimsoll had from three to
four hours' start, he figured. And he calculated that, with luck, with
common luck and justice, he would pick him up before he rea