me to him with flashing eyes. "Why didn't you get here sooner?"
she panted, as if she had been running; for the blind rage was strong in
her.

His anger burst out to meet hers. "I wish I had!" he cried, with a furious
oath.

"He insulted me. He laughed at me, and taunted me--and kissed me!"

Jack nodded. "I saw. If I had only had my rifle with me! Who was he?"

"He wore a mask. But I knew him. It was Dunc Boone."

"With the Roaring Fork gang?"

"I don't know. Is he one of them?"

"I've been thinking so for years."

"They must have known about our picnic. But what do they want with Mr.
West?"

"He's one of the world's richest men."

"But he doesn't carry his money with him."

"He carries his life."

"They must mean to hold him for a ransom. Is that it?"

"You've guessed it. That's the play." Jack considered, his eyes on the
far-away hills. When he spoke again it was with sharp decision. "Hit the
trail back to town with your motor. Don't lose a minute on the way. Send a
dispatch to Bucky O'Connor. You'd ought to get him at Douglas. If not,
some of his rangers will know where to reach him. Keep the wires hot till
you're in touch with him. Better sign my name. I've been writing him about
this outfit. This job is cut out for Bucky, and we've got to get him on
it."

"And what are _you_ going to do?"

"I can't do much--I'm not armed. First time I've been caught that way
since I've been sheriff. Came out to-day for a picnic and left my gun at
home. But if they're the Roaring Fork outfit, they'll pass through the
Elkhorn canyon, heading for Dead Man's Cache. I'm going to cut around Old
Baldy and try to beat them to it. Maybe I can recognize some of them."

"But if they see you?"

"I ain't aiming to let them see me."

"Still, they may."

His quiet eyes met hers steadily. "Yes, they may."

They were friends again, though he had never fully forgiven her doubt of
him. It might be on the cards that some day she would be more to him than
a friend. Understanding perfectly the danger of what he proposed, she yet
made no protest. The man who would storm her heart must be one who would
go the limit, for her standards were those of the outdoor West. She, too,
was "game" to the core; and she had never liked him better than she did at
this moment. A man must be a man, and take his fighting chance.

"All right, Jack."

Not for years before had she called him by his first name. His heart
leaped, but he did not let