this canyon
that leads into the Rockface, as I understand it. Now take me to this
man Banner."

At a low, rambling house in the outskirts of Corvan they found Jim
Banner, sitting on the edge of his bed, undeniably sick from some
acute attack. His eyes were steady, however, and he listened in
silence while Kenset talked.

"Mary," he said, "bring me my boots an' guns. I been layin' for this
day ever sence I been in office. I wisht Jim Last was here to witness
it."

In two hours Kenset was on his way to the blind mouth of the pass that
led into the Canon Country, Tharon was shooting back to the Holding on
El Rey to put things on a watching basis there, while Conford and
Billy went south and west to rouse the Vigilantes.

With Kenset rode Banner, weak and not quite steady in his saddle, but
a fighting man notwithstanding.

All through the golden hours of that noonday while he jogged steadily
on Captain, Kenset was thinking. He had food for thought, indeed. He
carried a gun at last--he who had ridden the Valley unarmed, had meant
never to carry one. He felt a stir within him of savagery, of
excitement.

He meant to have justice done, to put a hard hand on the law of Lost
Valley. Murders uninvestigated, cattle stolen at will, settlers' homes
burned over their heads, their hearths blown up by planted powder when
they returned from any small trip, their horses run off--these things
had seemed to him preposterous, mere shadows of facts. Now they were
down to straight points before him, tangible, solid. He got them from
the blue eyes of Tharon Last, the gun woman, and he had taken sides!
He who had meant to keep so far out of the boiling turmoil.

He camped that night at the base of the Wall where the blind door
entered, made his bed just inside the dead black passage, and watched
while Banner, weary and still weak, slept in his blankets beside
him.

This was new work for Kenset, strange work, this waiting for men who
called themselves the Vigilantes--for a slim golden girl who rode and
swore and pledged herself to blood!

More than once in the quiet night that followed, Kenset wiped a hand
across his brow and found it moist with sweat.

What did he mean? Again and again he asked himself that question.

What did he mean by Tharon Last? What was this cold fire that burned
him when he thought of her pulling those sinister blue guns on
Courtrey? Did he fear to see her kill Courtrey--to see that shadowy
stain on her