"Jake, stop him!" yelled Anderson. "Pull him off!"

As Lenore saw it, with eyes again half failing her, Jake could not
separate Dorn from his victim.

"Leggo, Dorn!" he yelled. "You're cheatin' the gallows!...Hey, Bill,
he's a bull!... Help, hyar--quick!"

Lenore did not see the resulting conflict, but she could tell by
something that swayed the crowd when Glidden had been freed.

"Hold up this outfit!" yelled Anderson to his men. "Come on, Jake, drag
him along." Jake appeared, leading the disheveled and wild-eyed Dorn.
"Son, you did my heart good, but there was some around here who didn't
want you to spill blood. An' that's well. For I am seein' red....Jake,
you take Dorn an' Lenore a piece toward the house, then hurry back."

Then Lenore felt that she had hold of Dorn's arm and she was listening
to Jake without understanding a word he said, while she did hear her
father's yell of command, "Line up there, you I.W.W.'s!"

Jake walked so swiftly that Lenore had to run to keep up. Dorn stumbled.
He spoke incoherently. He tried to stop. At this Lenore clasped his arm
and cried, "Oh, Kurt, come home with me!"

They hurried down the slope. Lenore kept looking back. The crowd
appeared bunched now, with little motion. That relieved her. There was
no more fighting.

Presently Dorn appeared to go more willingly. He had relaxed. "Let go,
Jake," he said. "I'm--all right--now. That arm hurts."

"Wal, you'll excuse me, Dorn, for handlin' you rough.... Mebbe you don't
remember punchin' me one when I got between you an' Glidden?"

"Did I?... I couldn't see, Jake," said Dorn. His voice was weak and had
a spent ring of passion in it. He did not look at Lenore, but kept his
face turned toward the cowboy.

"I reckon this 's fur enough," rejoined Jake, halting and looking back.
"No one comin'. An' there'll be hell to pay out there. You go on to the
house with Miss Lenore.... Will you?"

"Yes," replied Dorn.

"Rustle along, then.... An' you, Miss Lenore, don't you worry none about
us."

Lenore nodded and, holding Dorn's arm closely, she walked as fast as she
could down the lane.

"I--I kept your coat," she said, "though I never thought of it--till
just now."

She was trembling all over, hot and cold by turns, afraid to look up at
him, yet immensely proud of him, with a strange, sickening dread. He
walked rather dejectedly now, or else bent somewhat from weakness. She
stole a quick glance at his face. It was white as a