the leaves of the cottonwoods, and the running water
murmured down its stone-bedded channel. The glimmering of the first star
was like the peace and beauty of the night. Her faith welled up in her
heart and said that all would soon be right in her little world. She
pictured Venters about his lonely camp-fire sitting between his faithful
dogs. She prayed for his safety, for the success of his undertaking.

Early the next morning one of Jane's women brought in word that Judkins
wished to speak to her. She hurried out, and in her surprise to see him
armed with rifle and revolver, she forgot her intention to inquire about
his wound.

"Judkins! Those guns? You never carried guns."

"It's high time, Miss Withersteen," he replied. "Will you come into the
grove? It ain't jest exactly safe for me to be seen here."

She walked with him into the shade of the cottonwoods.

"What do you mean?"

"Miss Withersteen, I went to my mother's house last night. While there,
some one knocked, an' a man asked for me. I went to the door. He wore
a mask. He said I'd better not ride any more for Jane Withersteen. His
voice was hoarse an' strange, disguised I reckon, like his face. He said
no more, an' ran off in the dark."

"Did you know who he was?" asked Jane, in a low voice.

"Yes."

Jane did not ask to know; she did not want to know; she feared to know.
All her calmness fled at a single thought.

"Thet's why I'm packin' guns," went on Judkins. "For I'll never quit
ridin' for you, Miss Withersteen, till you let me go."

"Judkins, do you want to leave me?"

"Do I look thet way? Give me a hoss--a fast hoss, an' send me out on the
sage."

"Oh, thank you, Judkins! You're more faithful than my own people. I
ought not accept your loyalty--you might suffer more through it. But
what in the world can I do? My head whirls. The wrong to Venters--the
stolen herd--these masks, threats, this coil in the dark! I can't
understand! But I feel something dark and terrible closing in around
me."

"Miss Withersteen, it's all simple enough," said Judkins, earnestly.
"Now please listen--an' beggin' your pardon--jest turn thet deaf Mormon
ear aside, an' let me talk clear an' plain in the other. I went around
to the saloons an' the stores an' the loafin' places yesterday. All your
riders are in. There's talk of a vigilance band organized to hunt down
rustlers. They call themselves 'The Riders.' Thet's the report--thet's
the reason given for your rid