Burnt her hoofs," he said shortly,
"so she can't follow when he runs her calf off."

"The brute!" declared Miss Radford, her face paling with anger.

The man was fumbling with the rope that bound the cow's legs, when the
first man rode around the edge of the break and came full upon him.
From the distance at which Miss Radford and Ferguson watched they could
not see the expression of either man's face, but they saw the rustler's
right hand move downward; saw his pistol glitter in the sunlight.

But the pistol was not raised. The first man's pistol had appeared
just a fraction of a second sooner, and they saw that it was poised,
menacing the rustler.

For an instant the two men were motionless. Ferguson felt the grasp on
his arm tighten, and he turned his head to see Miss Radford's face,
pale and drawn; her eyes lifted to his with a slow, dawning horror in
them.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "They are going to shoot!" She withdrew her hand
from Ferguson's arm and held it, with the other, to her ears, cringing
away from the edge of the cliff. She waited, breathless, for--it
seemed to her--the space of several minutes, her head turned from the
men, her eyes closed for fear that she might, in the dread of the
moment, look toward the plain. She kept telling herself that she would
not turn, but presently, in spite of her determination, the suspense
was too great, and she turned quickly and fearfully, expecting to see
at least one riderless horse. That would have been horrible enough.

To her surprise both men still kept the positions that they had held
when she had turned away. The newcomer's revolver still menaced the
rustler. She looked up into Ferguson's face, to see a grim smile on
it, to see his eyes, chilled and narrowed, fixed steadily upon the two
horsemen.

"Oh!" she said, "is it over?"

Ferguson heard the question, and smiled mirthlessly without turning his
head.

"I reckon it ain't over--yet," he returned. "But I expect it'll be
over pretty soon, if that guy that's got his gun on the rustler don't
get a move on right quick. That other guy is comin' around the corner
of that break, an' if he's the rustler's friend that man with the gun
will get his pretty rapid." His voice raised a trifle, a slightly
anxious note in it.

"Why don't the damn fool turn around? He could see that last man now
if he did. Now, what do you think of that?" Ferguson's voice was
sharp and tense, and, in spite of herself, M