ental reservation, for, obsessed by his anxiety over Santry, the
young ranchman was in no mood to spare either himself or his horse. His
going was marked by a constant shower of stones, sometimes behind him,
as the wiry cayuse climbed like a mountain goat; but as often in front,
as horse and rider coasted perilously down some declivity. The horse
sweated and trembled with nervousness, as a frightened child might, but
never refused to attempt what its master demanded of it. One might
almost say that there existed a human understanding between man and
beast as to the importance of their errand; a common impulse, which
urged them onward.

When Wade reflected that Dorothy, too, had come over that trail by night
in his interest, he thought her more than ever a wonderful girl. Even to
one born and raised in the cattle country, the trip would have been
difficult; but then he realized that Dorothy seemed much like a
ranch-bred girl in her courage and frank womanliness, nor was she any
less charming on that account. After all, he thought, women paid too
highly for little accomplishments, if to gain them they had to sacrifice
the vital points of character. He could not help but contrast Helen's
insistence that she should be escorted back to the hotel with Dorothy's
brave ride alone, and while he was too loyal to Helen Rexhill to blame
her in this respect, the thing made a deep impression upon him.

The way was long, and he had time for many thoughts. It was natural, in
the still night, with Dorothy only a little while gone, that he should
think tenderly of her, for this cost Santry nothing. For Santry, Wade
was reserving not thought but action. He was making up his mind that if
Moran had taken the foreman into custody on a trumped up charge of
murder, the agent should feel the power of a greater tribunal than any
court in the locality--the law of the Strong Arm! Behind him in this,
the ranchman knew, was the whole of the cattle faction, and since war
had been thrust upon them he would not stop until the end came, whatever
it might be. His conscience was clean, for he had exerted himself
manfully in the cause of peace, even to the point where his own
character had suffered, and now the hour of reprisal was at hand.

He rode, at last, over the top of the Divide and into the little draw
that led up to the ranch buildings, in the windows of which lights
gleamed. With an imprecation at sight of them, he tied his horse to a
post, and