nch house is full of men."

"Men? What men?" Wade demanded sharply.

"Race Moran's crowd. They went out to arrest Santry. The Sheriff is with
them. I heard part of it in town, and that's why I tried to find you."
Wade groaned. "I peeped in at a window, and when I could see neither
you nor Santry I slipped away without being seen and took the old trail
back because it was shorter."

"Lord, what a mess!" Wade ground his teeth savagely. "Poor old Bill was
all alone there and they must have surprised him. But I don't see why
Barker didn't mention the posse when he told me of the shooting?"

"He didn't know of it, probably. They left town very quietly. I happened
to be out back of the house and I heard one of them talking as they rode
by."

"Good Lord!" Wade's head drooped. "I told Bill to stay at the ranch, and
he promised me...."

"I don't believe he shot Jensen at all," Dorothy declared, with spirit.
"Yes, it was Jensen himself and one of his herders. Both in the
back--killed."

"Bill Santry never shot any man in the back," Wade declared, in a
relieved tone. "If you're sure of the facts, Santry will come clear all
right."

"It's just a devilish scheme of Moran's, that's all, to put it on you
and Santry. I'm sure it is. He hates you both. Whoa, Gypsy!" She reined
the little mare in again. "No, it's all right, Gordon. I can manage
her," she remonstrated, as he reached for the bridle once more.

"So that's their game, eh? By Heaven, I more than half believe you're
right." His face grew ugly with rage. "Dorothy," he continued grimly,
"thanks are useless. You're a brick, that's all. Do one thing more for
us, will you?"

"Anything," she replied simply, her eyes shining with devotion to him,
but he was too overwrought to read them in the darkness.

"When you get back to town get word to some of the men for me. You may
meet them on the way out, if not they'll be around the barn. Tell them
to meet me at the big pine, on the old trail."

His horse had grown restless and now he allowed it to have its head; he
was moving past her when she clutched his arm.

"Gordon!"

She loved him dearly, too dearly to let him know how well until he
should speak, if he ever did speak; but above them was the starlit sky
and over them hovered the wondrous spirit of the Western night. Her
pulse was beating, too, to the call of danger, and despite the control
which she had over her nerves, she was just a bit hysterical beneath the
sur