akened spirit.

Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His
pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no
blame, only pity, and--love. He knew now that all he had hoped and
longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from
the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the
caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its
confidence and strength.

What was her past recklessness to him? He passed it by, and thanked
God that, for all its wrong against the laws, she assessed a courage
so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a
woman to love and live for. To work, and--to die for. And his
feelings he knew had been shared by another.

He rose from his chair and passed behind Kate's rocker. He leaned down
and kissed her masses of beautiful dark hair.

"Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and
now--now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for
you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently,
please God, we'll come back to our--home."

* * * * *

Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the
doorway of Kate's house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were
tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road.

Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes
were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the
hill.

Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe.

"We haven't talked much about things before," he said, pressing the
tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger.
"Guess there wasn't much room for talk between--you and me. But we had
to say things sooner or later, on--account of--the girls. It's bad
med'cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between
us. That's why I've started talking now--with the horses waiting
saddled."

Bill nodded.

"I was desperate sore," he said, his blue eyes coming back to the
other's face. "You see, I couldn't think right at first, back there in
Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I've done a big think
since then. Yes, a huge big think. And--do you know I'm kind of sure
now Charlie was just glad to do what he did." Then his voice dropped
to an awed undertone. "It's queer how thinking makes you see things
right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he'd tell