r has met some
square Mormons! An' mebbe--"

"Blake," interrupted Jane, nervously anxious to terminate a colloquy
that she perceived was an ordeal for him. "Go at once and fetch me a
report of my horses."

"Miss Withersteen!... You mean the big drove--down in the sage-cleared
fields?"

"Of course," replied Jane. "My horses are all there, except the blooded
stock I keep here."

"Haven't you heard--then?"

"Heard? No! What's happened to them?"

"They're gone, Miss Withersteen, gone these ten days past. Dorn told me,
and I rode down to see for myself."

"Lassiter--did you know?" asked Jane, whirling to him.

"I reckon so.... But what was the use to tell you?"

It was Lassiter turning away his face and Blake studying the stone flags
at his feet that brought Jane to the understanding of what she betrayed.
She strove desperately, but she could not rise immediately from such a
blow.

"My horses! My horses! What's become of them?"

"Dorn said the riders report another drive by Oldring.... And I trailed
the horses miles down the slope toward Deception Pass."

"My red herd's gone! My horses gone! The white herd will go next. I can
stand that. But if I lost Black Star and Night, it would be like parting
with my own flesh and blood. Lassiter--Blake--am I in danger of losing
my racers?"

"A rustler--or--or anybody stealin' hosses of yours would most of all
want the blacks," said Lassiter. His evasive reply was affirmative
enough. The other rider nodded gloomy acquiescence.

"Oh! Oh!" Jane Withersteen choked, with violent utterance.

"Let me take charge of the blacks?" asked Blake. "One more rider won't
be any great help to Judkins. But I might hold Black Star and Night, if
you put such store on their value."

"Value! Blake, I love my racers. Besides, there's another reason why I
mustn't lose them. You go to the stables. Go with Jerd every day when
he runs the horses, and don't let them out of your sight. If you would
please me--win my gratitude, guard my black racers."

When Blake had mounted and ridden out of the court Lassiter regarded
Jane with the smile that was becoming rarer as the days sped by.

"'Pears to me, as Blake says, you do put some store on them hosses. Now
I ain't gainsayin' that the Arabians are the handsomest hosses I ever
seen. But Bells can beat Night, an' run neck en' neck with Black Star."

"Lassiter, don't tease me now. I'm miserable--sick. Bells is fast, but
he can't stay with the bl