e long, hideous nightmare.

When his soft steps clinked into the hall, in answer to her greeting,
and his tall, black-garbed form filled the door, she felt an
inexpressible sense of immediate safety. In his presence she lost her
fear of the dim passageways of Withersteen House and of every sound.
Always it had been that, when he entered the court or the hall, she
had experienced a distinctly sickening but gradually lessening shock
at sight of the huge black guns swinging at his sides. This time the
sickening shock again visited her, it was, however, because a revealing
flash of thought told her that it was not alone Lassiter who was
thrillingly welcome, but also his fatal weapons. They meant so much. How
she had fallen--how broken and spiritless must she be--to have still
the same old horror of Lassiter's guns and his name, yet feel somehow a
cold, shrinking protection in their law and might and use.

"Did you trail Venters--find his wonderful valley?" she asked, eagerly.

"Yes, an' I reckon it's sure a wonderful place."

"Is he safe there?"

"That's been botherin' me some. I tracked him an' part of the trail was
the hardest I ever tackled. Mebbe there's a rustler or somebody in this
country who's as good at trackin' as I am. If that's so Venters ain't
safe."

"Well--tell me all about Bern and his valley."

To Jane's surprise Lassiter showed disinclination for further talk about
his trip. He appeared to be extremely fatigued. Jane reflected that
one hundred and twenty miles, with probably a great deal of climbing
on foot, all in three days, was enough to tire any rider. Moreover, it
presently developed that Lassiter had returned in a mood of singular
sadness and preoccupation. She put it down to a moodiness over the loss
of her white herd and the now precarious condition of her fortune.

Several days passed, and as nothing happened, Jane's spirits began to
brighten. Once in her musings she thought that this tendency of hers
to rebound was as sad as it was futile. Meanwhile, she had resumed her
walks through the grove with little Fay.

One morning she went as far as the sage. She had not seen the slope
since the beginning of the rains, and now it bloomed a rich deep purple.
There was a high wind blowing, and the sage tossed and waved and colored
beautifully from light to dark. Clouds scudded across the sky and their
shadows sailed darkly down the sunny slope.

Upon her return toward the house she went by the l