She noticed that the
moon had sunk behind the mountains, yet it was not dark. Glancing
toward the east, she realized that it was morning. She urged her horse
into a lope, and reached Thompson's just as the ranchman and his two
hands were starting for the barn.

"Well, dog my cats, if it ain't Miss Sinclair!" exclaimed the man, and
stood silent for a second as if trying to remember something. He
rushed toward her excitedly. "You want that horse?" he cried, and
without waiting for an answer, turned to the astonished ranch hands:
"You, Mike, throw the shell onto Lightnin', an' git him out here, an'
don't lose no time about it, neither!

"Pete, git that rifle an' lay along the trail! An' if anyone comes
a-foggin' along towards town shoot his horse out from in under him!
Never mind chawin'--you git! Shoot his horse, an' I'll pay the bill.
Any skunk that would try fer to beat a lady out of her claim ain't
a-goin' to expect nothin' but what he gits around this outfit. An'
say, Pete--if it should be Monk Bethune--an' you happen to shoot a
leetle high fer to hit the horse--don't worry none--git, now!

"You come right along of me, an' git a snack from Miz T. while Mike's
a-saddlin' up. It's a long drag to town, even on Lightnin', an' you
ain't et yet. If the coffee ain't hot, you can wait a couple o'
minutes--that there Pete--he won't let nothin' git by--he kin cut a
sage hen's head off twenty rod with that rifle!" Patty had made
several unsuccessful attempts to speak--attempts to which Thompson
paid no attention whatever. At last, she managed to make him
understand. "No, no! It isn't the claim, Mr. Thompson--but, let him
saddle the horse just the same. Mr. Samuelson is worse and I'm riding
for the doctor."

"You!" exclaimed the astonished Thompson. "What's the matter with Bill
or some of Samuelson's riders?"

"They're after the horse-thieves. They ran off a lot of Mr.
Samuelson's horses last night, and they're after them. And they caught
them, and had a battle, and I was in it, and there is a dead man lying
back there beside the trail." Patty talked rapidly, and Thompson
stared open-mouthed.

"Run off Samuelson's horses--battle--dead man--you was in it!" he
repeated, in bewilderment. "Who run 'em off? Where's Vil Holland?
Who's dead?"

"I don't know who's dead. A horse-thief, I guess. And Vil Holland's
with them--with the Samuelson cowboys and that horrid Pierce, and
that's why I had to ride for the doctor--because th