is right. I believe
in you, and here's my life to prove it."

"You hint it may mean your life!" said Jane, breathless and low.

"We won't speak of that. I want to come back. I want to do what every
rider aches in his secret heart to do for you.... Miss Withersteen, I
hoped it'd not be necessary to tell you that my mother on her deathbed
told me to have courage. She knew how the thing galled me--she told me
to come back.... Will you take me?"

"God bless you, Blake! Yes, I'll take you back. And will you--will you
accept gold from me?"

"Miss Withersteen!"

"I just gave Judkins a bag of gold. I'll give you one. If you will
not take it you must not come back. You might ride for me a few
months--weeks--days till the storm breaks. Then you'd have nothing, and
be in disgrace with your people. We'll forearm you against poverty, and
me against endless regret. I'll give you gold which you can hide--till
some future time."

"Well, if it pleases you," replied Blake. "But you know I never thought
of pay. Now, Miss Withersteen, one thing more. I want to see this man
Lassiter. Is he here?"

"Yes, but, Blake--what--Need you see him? Why?" asked Jane, instantly
worried. "I can speak to him--tell him about you."

"That won't do. I want to--I've got to tell him myself. Where is he?"

"Lassiter is with Mrs. Larkin. She is ill. I'll call him," answered
Jane, and going to the door she softly called for the rider. A faint,
musical jingle preceded his step--then his tall form crossed the
threshold.

"Lassiter, here's Blake, an old rider of mine. He has come back to me
and he wishes to speak to you."

Blake's brown face turned exceedingly pale.

"Yes, I had to speak to you," he said, swiftly. "My name's Blake. I'm a
Mormon and a rider. Lately I quit Miss Withersteen. I've come to beg her
to take me back. Now I don't know you; but I know--what you are. So
I've this to say to your face. It would never occur to this woman to
imagine--let alone suspect me to be a spy. She couldn't think it
might just be a low plot to come here and shoot you in the back. Jane
Withersteen hasn't that kind of a mind.... Well, I've not come for that.
I want to help her--to pull a bridle along with Judkins and--and you.
The thing is--do you believe me?"

"I reckon I do," replied Lassiter. How this slow, cool speech contrasted
with Blake's hot, impulsive words! "You might have saved some of your
breath. See here, Blake, cinch this in your mind. Lassite