.
Well, if you ever feel like we deserve a good word, colonel's
daughter, we'd be proud to have you say it, for the feller that stands
up for the law and the Lord and his home agin the cattlemen in this
land, ma'am, he's got a hard row to hoe. Yes, we'll count any good
words you might say for us as so much gold. 'And the Levite, thou
shalt not forsake him, for he hath no part nor inheritance with
thee.'"

Tom's voice was slow and solemn when he quoted that Mosaic injunction.
The appeal of the disinherited was in it, and the pain of lost years.
It touched her like a sorrow of her own. Tears were on her cheeks
again as she parted from him, giving him her hand in token of trust
and faith, and rode on toward the ranchhouse by the river.

CHAPTER XIV

WHEN FRIENDS PART

Banjo had returned, with fever in his wound. Mrs. Chadron was putting
horse liniment on it when Frances entered the sitting-room where the
news of the tragedy had visited them the night past.

"I didn't go to the post--I saw some men in the road and turned back,"
Frances told them, sinking down wearily in a chair before the fire.

"I'm glad you turned back, honey," Mrs. Chadron said, shaking her head
sadly, "for I was no end worried about you. Them rustlers they're
comin' down from their settlement and gatherin' up by Macdonald's
place, the men told Banjo, and no tellin' what they might 'a' done if
they'd seen you."

Mrs. Chadron's face was not red with the glow of peppers and much food
this morning. One night of anxiety had racked her, and left hollows
under her eyes and a flat grayness in her cheeks.

Banjo had brought no other news. The men had scattered at daybreak to
search for the trail of the man who had carried Nola away, but Banjo,
sore and shaken, had come back depressed and full of pains. Mrs.
Chadron said that Saul surely would be home before noonday, and urged
Frances to go to her room and sleep.

"I'm steadier this morning, I'll watch and wait," she said, pressing
the liniment-soaked cloth to Banjo's bruised forehead.

Banjo contracted his muscles under the application, shriveling up on
himself like a snail in a fire, for it was hot and heroic liniment,
and strong medicine for strong beasts and tougher men. Banjo's face
was a picture of patient suffering, but he said nothing, and had not
spoken since Frances entered the room, for the treatment had been
under way before her arrival and there was scarcely enough breath left
i