. He did not believe
that Lorraine had been to the Sawtooth, or that she had raved about
anything. She had probably gone off by herself to cry and to worry
over her troubles,--hurt, too, perhaps, because Lone had left the ranch
that morning without a word with her first. He believed the story of
her being insane had been carefully planned, and that Warfield had
perhaps ridden over in the hope that they would find her alone; though
with Frank dead on the ranch that would be unlikely. But to offset
that, Lone's reason told him that Warfield had probably not known that
Frank was dead. That had been news to him--or had it? He tried to
remember whether Warfield had mentioned it first and could not. Too
many disturbing emotions had held him lately; Lone was beginning to
feel the need of a long, quiet pondering over his problems. He did not
feel sure of anything except the fact that the Quirt was like a
drowning man struggling vainly against the whirlpool that is sucking
him slowly under.

One thing he knew, and that was his determination to stay with these
two of the Sawtooth until he had some definite information; until he
saw Lorraine or knew that she was safe from them. Like a weight
pressing harder and harder until one is crushed beneath it, their talk
of Lorraine's insanity forced fear into his soul. They could do just
what they had talked of doing. He himself had placed that weapon in
their hands when he took her to the Sawtooth delirious and told of
wilder words and actions. Hawkins and his wife would swear away her
sanity if they were told to do it, and there were witnesses in plenty
who had heard him call her crazy that first morning.

They could do it; they could have her committed to an asylum, or at
least to a sanitorium. He did not underestimate the influence of
Senator Warfield. And what could the Quirt do to prevent the outrage?
Frank Johnson was dead; Brit was out of the fight for the time being;
Jim and Sorry were the doggedly faithful sort who must have a leader
before they can be counted upon to do much.

Swan,--Lone lifted his head and glanced toward the ridge when he
thought of Swan. There, indeed, he might hope for help. But Swan was
out here, away from reinforcements. He was trailing Al Woodruff, and
when he found him,--that might be the end of Swan. If not, Warfield
could hurry Lorraine away before Swan could act in the matter. A
whimsical thought of Swan's telepathic miracle cros