been overlooked by Major King in the
excitement of the shooting. The young lieutenant hadn't the heart to
take the weapons from her. Orders had been carried out; Macdonald had
been disarmed. He let it go at that.

Frances rode in the wagon with Macdonald, a canteen of water slung
over her shoulders. Now and then she moistened his lips with a little
of it, and bathed his eyes, closed in pathetic weariness. He was
unconscious still from the blow of Saul Chadron's big bullet. As she
ministered to him she felt that he would open his eyes on this world's
pains and cruel injustices nevermore.

And why had Major King ordered her, virtually under arrest, to Alamito
Ranch, instead of sending her in disgrace to the post? Was it because
he feared that she would communicate with her father from the post,
and discover to him the treacherous compact between Chadron and King,
or merely to take a mean revenge upon her by humiliating her in Nola
Chadron's eyes?

He had taken the newspaper correspondent with him, and certainly would
see that no more of the truth was sent out by him from that
flame-swept country for several days. With her at the ranch, far from
telegraphic communication with the world, nothing could go out from
her that would enlighten the department on the deception that the
cattlemen had practiced to draw the government into the conflict on
their side. In the meantime, the Drovers' Association would be at
work, spreading money with free hand, corrupting evidence with the old
dyes of falsehood.

Major King had seen his promised reward withdrawn through her
intervention, and had made a play of being fair to both sides in the
controversy, except that he kept one hand on Chadron's shoulder, so to
speak, in making martyrs of those bloody men whom he had sent there to
burn and kill. They were to be shipped safely back to their place,
where they would disperse, and walk free of all prosecution
afterwards. For that one service to the cattlemen Major King could
scarcely hope to win his coveted reward.

She believed that Alan Macdonald would die. It seemed that the fever
which would consume his feeble hope of life was already kindling on
his lips. But she had no tears to pour out over him now. Only a great
hardness in her heart against Saul Chadron, and a wild desire to lift
her hand and strike him low.

Whether Major King would make her attempt against Chadron's life, or
her interference with his military expedition his