ion that she would escape grew strong in her.
Once out of the valley she would ride straight to Lamo, to ask Sheriff
Gage to protect her.

She rode faster as she widened the distance that separated her from the
men; and soon the horse was covering the trail rapidly; and she leaned
forward in the saddle, praying that the men might not see her.

She had gone several miles when she noticed a dark object beside the
trail ahead of her. She drew the horse down and approached the spot
cautiously. And when she saw that the object was a man, her thoughts flew
to the shot she had heard, and to Deveny's words:

"Make sure of it."

It _was_ Linton, she saw, as she halted the horse near the object she had
seen. He was lying on his right side, resting his weight on an elbow, as
though trying to rise.

In an instant she was out of the saddle and at his side, raising his
head.

He looked at her, smiled, and said weakly:

"You got away, eh? I reckon they met Harlan. I was hopin' they would. Did
they?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. She had seen that Linton was badly wounded,
and she knew that she must give up hope of getting to Lamo in order to
give him the care he needed.

So without speaking further, though with an effort that required the last
ounce of her strength, she lifted Linton, he helping a little, and led
him toward her horse. Somehow, with Linton doing all he could, she got
him into the saddle, climbed up behind him, and sent the horse toward the
Rancho Seco.

Back at the little level where the men were grouped there was a tension
that seemed to charge the atmosphere with tragedy. Deveny's men sat
silent in their saddles, watching their leader and Harlan with sullen,
savage eyes. The T Down men, facing them, were equally sullen. Guns in
hand, they alertly watched the men who were with Deveny, plainly
determined that there should be no interference from them in the tragedy
that seemed imminent.

Rogers and his men, and the riders who had come with Colver, were also
watching the Deveny group. All of these held weapons, too; and Rogers,
who had dismounted, was standing beside his horse, a rifle resting on the
saddle seat, his cheek snuggling the stock, the muzzle trained on Deveny.

Harlan, Rogers, and the others, racing down the valley, had met Deveny
and his men coming up. And when Deveny had recognized Harlan and the
others he had quickly dismounted, bearing his unconscious burden. Because
he felt that trouble