h Kate Doubleday.

But for the shadow of her father's condition there was everything in
the ride to make for Kate's happiness. The sweep of the matchless sky,
the glory of the sunshine, the wine of the morning air, the eager feet
and spreading nostrils of the horses, and at her side--her lover! The
trust a woman gives to a man, the security of his protection, the daily
growth of her confidence in her choice and her surrender--these could
temper, if they could not extinguish, her confused grief.

For Laramie the shadow meant less; sympathy drew him closer to Kate;
there was even happiness in knowing that she turned in her distress to
him for consolation and guidance.

Timidly, she tried to tell him, as they rode, of some of the better
traits of her father, traits that might extenuate his cold, hard
brutality--as if to build him up a little in the eyes of one she wished
not to think of him too harshly.

"Don't worry over what I'm going to think about him," said Laramie.
"If I worried over what a lot of people think about me, where should I
be? There's some good in most every man; but it doesn't always get a
chance to work."

Kate's anxiety was reflected in her manner. "If only," she exclaimed,
"they haven't killed him today."

The two had crossed the first divide. Below them lay the Crazy Woman,
spanned by the Double-draw bridge.

"His friends were his worst enemies," continued Laramie. "But they've
got to get out of this country now. And the worst men are out of the
Falling Wall. Still if you don't like it there, we won't live there,"
he added, sitting half sidewise toward Kate in his saddle to feast his
eyes on her freshness and youth.

"I shall like it anywhere you are, Jim," she said, looking at him
simply.

The picture was too much for his restraint. He reined eagerly toward
her.

With a laugh she shied away, struck her horse and dashed ahead.
Laramie spurred after her. But they were on the level creek bottom and
riding swiftly. She gave him a long run--more than he had looked for.

He realized, as they raced toward the bridge, that he had for one
moment forgotten everything but his complete happiness. He called to
Kate to stop. In her zest she spurred the harder. He knew she must
not reach the bridge ahead of him. Yet he realized the difficulty he
faced; she would not understand; and at every cost he must stop her.
Animated by this sudden instinct of danger he crowded his horse, forged