at imaginary stain which human blood seems to
leave on the hands of the killer. Blood guilt."

"You call it that? My daddy had his killin's, but they were all in
fair-an'-open. _I_ called him a _man_."

There was a ringing quality in her voice, a depth and resonance that
spoke of war and heroes. The fire that all the Holding knew was
suddenly in her eyes, flashing and flaming. Kenset caught it, and a
thrill shot through him.

"Granted," he said quickly. "But is there only _one_ type of man?"

"For me," said Tharon, "yes."

"I'm sorry," said he, and for the life of him he did not know why.

"So'm I," said Tharon honestly.

They looked at each other for a pregnant moment, while a silence fell
on the cabin and they could hear the singing water running down the
slopes.

Then the girl stooped and rearranged the cushion in the big chair,
laid a book more neatly on top of another at the table's edge.

"Th' time is up," she said, "I must be goin'."

She straightened her shoulders and looked at him again.

"I thank you for th' meal," she said, "an' some day I'll return it--in
some manner. I don't know yet just what you're here for, nor if you're
Courtrey's man or not--------"

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Kenset, but she went on.

"I won't shake hands with you, for whilst I ain't done no killin' yet,
I'm sworn--an' Jim Last's hands was red--they would be to such as
you--an' down to th' last drop o' blood, th' last beat o' my heart,
I'm Jim Last's girl--th' best gun man in Lost Valley, if I do say
so."

And she swung quickly to the door.

Kenset followed her. He longed for words, but found none.

There was a sudden tragic seeming in the very air, a change from the
pleasant commonplace to the tense and unexpected. It was always so in
these strange meetings with the people of Lost Valley, it seemed, as
if he was never to find his way among them, the sane and quiet course
that he must travel.

As they reached the step at the door sill El Rey stamped and whinnied
a shrill blast. In through the gateway between the pines there came a
rider on a running horse, Billy on Golden who ploughed to a stop
before them, his grey eyes troubled.

"Hello, Billy," said Tharon. "How's this?"

"Been lookin' for you," said the boy. "We saw Courtrey an' his
ruffians ridin' up east--watched 'em with th' glass, an' Anita said
you rode south. Thought you might have met 'em."

"I didn't meet 'em, so to speak," she said, smiling, "though