s death!"

"No! No! It's only the falling of a timber!"

Yet with a panic at his heart he knew that it was the sharp crack of a
firearm.

"Liar again! Pierre, for God's sake, do something for him. Father!
He's fighting for his life!"

Another and another explosion from the midst of the fire. He
understood then.

"The flames have reached his guns. That's all, Jack. Don't you see?
We'd be throwing ourselves away to run into those flames."

Realization came to her at last. A heavy weight slumped down suddenly
over his arms. He held her easily, lightly. Her head had tilted back,
and the red flare of the fire beat across her face and throat. The
roar of the flames shut out all other thought of the world and cast a
wide inferno of light around them.

Higher and higher rose the fires, and the wind cut off great fragments
and hurried them off into the night, blowing them, it seemed, straight
up against the piled thunder of the clouds. Then the roof sagged,
swayed, and fell crashing, while a vast cloud of sparks and livid fires
shot up a hundred feet into the air. It was as if the soul of old
Boone had departed in that final flare.

It started the girl into sudden life, surprising Pierre, so that she
managed to wrench herself free and ran from him. He sprang after her
with a shout, fearing that in her hysteria she might fling herself into
the fire, but that was not her purpose. Straight to the black horse
she ran, swung into the saddle with the ease of a man, and rode
furiously off through the falling of the night.

He watched her with a curious closing of loneliness like a hand about
his heart. He had failed, and because of that failure even Jacqueline
was leaving him. It was strange, for since the loss of the girl of the
yellow hair and those deep blue eyes, he had never dreamed that another
thing in life could pain him.

So at length he mounted the mare again and rode slowly down the hill
and out toward the distant ranges, trotting mile after mile with
downward head, not caring even if McGurk should cross him, for surely
this was the final end of the world to Pierre le Rouge.

About midnight he halted at last, for the uneasy sway of the mare
showed that she was nearly dead on her feet with weariness. He found a
convenient place for a camp, built his fire, and wrapped his blanket
about him without thinking of food.

He never knew how long he sat there, for his thoughts circled the world
and ba