hen those outside saw Laura Sloly
lean over and close the sightless eyes. This done, she came to the
door and opened it, and motioned for the Healer to leave. He hesitated,
hearing the harsh murmur from the outskirts of the crowd. Once again she
motioned, and he came. With a face deadly pale she surveyed the people
before her silently for a moment, her eyes all huge and staring.

Presently she turned to Ingles and spoke to him quickly in a low voice;
then, descending the steps, passed out through the lane made for her by
the crowd, he following with shaking limbs and bowed bead.

Warning words had passed among the few invincible ones who waited where
the Healer must pass into the open, and there was absolute stillness as
Laura advanced. Their work was to come--quiet and swift and sure; but
not yet.

Only one face Laura saw, as she led the way to the moment's safety--Tim
Denton's; and it was as stricken as her own. She passed, then turned,
and looked at him again. He understood; she wanted him.

He waited till she sprang into her waggon, after the Healer had mounted
his mule and ridden away with ever-quickening pace into the prairie.
Then he turned to the set, fierce men beside him.

"Leave him alone," he said, "leave him to me. I know him. You hear?
Ain't I no rights? I tell you I knew him--South. You leave him to me."

They nodded, and he sprang into his saddle and rode away. They watched
the figure of the Healer growing smaller in the dusty distance.

"Tim'll go to her," one said, "and perhaps they'll let the snake get
off. Hadn't we best make sure?"

"Perhaps you'd better let him vamoose," said Flood Rawley anxiously.
"Jansen is a law-abiding place!" The reply was decisive. Jansen had
its honour to keep. It was the home of the Pioneers--Laura Sloly was a
Pioneer.

Tim Denton was a Pioneer, with all the comradeship which lay in the
word, and he was that sort of lover who has seen one woman, and can
never see another--not the product of the most modern civilisation.
Before Laura had had Playmates he had given all he had to give; he had
waited and hoped ever since; and when the ruthless gossips had said
to him before Mary Jewell's house that she was in love with the Faith
Healer, nothing changed in him. For the man, for Ingles, Tim belonged
to a primitive breed, and love was not in his heart. As he rode out to
Sloly's Ranch, he ground his teeth in rage. But Laura had called him to
her, and: "Well, what you say