"The red herd is on the slope, toward the Pass."

Twilight was fast falling. A group of horsemen crossed the dark line
of low ground to become more distinct as they climbed the slope. The
silence broke to a clear call from an incoming rider, and, almost like
the peal of a hunting-horn, floated back the answer. The outgoing riders
moved swiftly, came sharply into sight as they topped a ridge to show
wild and black above the horizon, and then passed down, dimming into the
purple of the sage.

"I hope they don't meet Lassiter," said Jane.

"So do I," replied Venters. "By this time the riders of the night shift
know what happened to-day. But Lassiter will likely keep out of their
way."

"Bern, who is Lassiter? He's only a name to me--a terrible name."

"Who is he? I don't know, Jane. Nobody I ever met knows him. He talks a
little like a Texan, like Milly Erne. Did you note that?"

"Yes. How strange of him to know of her! And she lived here ten years
and has been dead two. Bern, what do you know of Lassiter? Tell me what
he has done--why you spoke of him to Tull--threatening to become another
Lassiter yourself?"

"Jane, I only heard things, rumors, stories, most of which I
disbelieved. At Glaze his name was known, but none of the riders or
ranchers I knew there ever met him. At Stone Bridge I never heard him
mentioned. But at Sterling and villages north of there he was spoken of
often. I've never been in a village which he had been known to visit.
There were many conflicting stories about him and his doings. Some said
he had shot up this and that Mormon village, and others denied it. I'm
inclined to believe he has, and you know how Mormons hide the truth. But
there was one feature about Lassiter upon which all agree--that he was
what riders in this country call a gun-man. He's a man with a marvelous
quickness and accuracy in the use of a Colt. And now that I've seen him
I know more. Lassiter was born without fear. I watched him with eyes
which saw him my friend. I'll never forget the moment I recognized him
from what had been told me of his crouch before the draw. It was then I
yelled his name. I believe that yell saved Tull's life. At any rate, I
know this, between Tull and death then there was not the breadth of the
littlest hair. If he or any of his men had moved a finger downward--"

Venters left his meaning unspoken, but at the suggestion Jane shuddered.

The pale afterglow in the west darkened with the merging