tance--and yet she had resisted, involuntarily, instinctively. Yet
resistance had merely served to increase the exhaustion that had come
upon her.

She had not known--until she lay passive in Deveny's arms--how taut her
nerves had been, nor how the physical ordeal had drained her strength.

She felt the strain, now, but consideration for her body was overwhelmed
by what she saw in Deveny's eyes as she lay watching him.

There were a dozen men with Deveny--she had seen them, counted them when
they had been racing down the shelving trail on the other side of the
valley. And she knew they were following Deveny, for she could hear the
thudding of hoofs behind.

Deveny's big arms were around her; she could feel the rippling of his
muscles as he swayed from side to side, balancing himself in the saddle.
He was not using the reins; he was giving his attention to her, letting
the horse follow his own inclinations.

Yet she noted that the animal held to the trail, that he traveled
steadily, requiring no word from his rider.

Once, after they had ridden some distance up the valley, Barbara heard a
man behind them call Deveny's attention to some horsemen who were riding
the shelving trail that Deveny and his men had taken on their way to the
level; and she heard Deveny laugh.

"Some of the Star gang, I reckon. Mebbe Haydon, goin' to the Rancho Seco,
to see his girl." He grinned down into Barbara's face, his own alight
with a triumph that made a shiver run over her.

Later--only a few minutes, it seemed--she heard a man call to Deveny
again, telling him that a lone rider was "fannin' it" up the valley.

"Looks like that guy, Linton," said the man.

"Two of you drop back and lay for him!" ordered Deveny. "Make it sure!"
he added, after a short pause.

Barbara yielded to a quick horror. She fought with Deveny, trying in vain
to free her arms--which he held tightly to her sides with his own. She
gave it up at last, and lay, looking up into his face, her eyes blazing
with impotent rage and repugnance.

"You mean to kill him?" she charged.

"Sure," he laughed; "there's no one interfering with what's going on
now."

Overcome with nausea over the conviction that Deveny's order meant death
to Red Linton, Barbara lay slack in Deveny's arms for a long time. A
premonitory silence had settled over the valley; she heard the dull thud
of hoofs behind her, regular and swift, the creaking of the saddle
leather as the animal under