om Rogers, and others.

There must have been twenty-five or thirty men, altogether, and they were
all on a little level beside the trail. It seemed to Barbara that they
all appeared to have forgotten her; seemed not to know that she was in
the vicinity.

She saw Deveny standing on the little level. His profile was toward her;
there was a wild, savage glare in his eyes.

Not more than a dozen feet from him was Harlan.

She saw Harlan's face from the side also. There was a grin on his
lips--bitter, mirthless, terrible.

She stood for what seemed to her a long time, watching all of them; her
heart throbbing with a dread heaviness that threatened to choke her; her
body in a state of icy paralysis.

She thought she knew what had happened, for it seemed to her that
everything in the world--all the passions and the desires of
men--centered upon her. She felt that there were two factions--one headed
by Deveny, and the other by Harlan, representing Haydon--and that they
were about to fight for her. The T Down men seemed to be standing with
Harlan--as, of course, they would, since he had sent for them to come to
the Rancho Seco.

Oddly, though, they apparently seemed to pay no attention to her; not one
of them looked at her.

If they were to fight it made no difference to her which faction won, for
her fate would be the same, if she stayed.

She did not know what put the thought into her mind, but as she stood
there watching the men she repeated mentally over and over the words: "If
I stay."

Why should she stay? She answered the question by stealing toward
Deveny's horse. When she reached the animal she paused, glancing
apprehensively at the men, her breathing suspended--hoping, dreading, her
nerves and muscles taut. It seemed they must see her.

Not a man moved as she climbed upon the back of the horse; it seemed to
her as she urged the animal gently and slowly away from the men that they
heard nothing and saw nothing but Harlan and Deveny, and that Harlan and
Deveny saw nothing but each other.

She sent the horse away, walking him for a dozen yards or more, until he
crossed the little level and sank into a shallow depression in the trail.
Still looking back, she saw that none of the men had changed
position--that they seemed to be more intent upon Harlan and Deveny. And
she could hear Harlan's voice, now, low, husky.

She urged the horse into a lope; and when she had ridden perhaps a
hundred yards, the convict