tain, and now the
valley was flooded with mellow light, and shadows of cottonwoods wavered
against the silver.

Suddenly the clip-clop, clip-clop of hoofs caused Duane to raise his
head and listen. Horses were coming down the road from the head of
the valley. The hour was unusual for riders to come in. Presently the
narrow, moonlit lane was crossed at its far end by black moving objects.
Two horses Duane discerned.

"It's Bland!" whispered the woman, grasping Duane with shaking hands.
"You must run! No, he'd see you. That 'd be worse. It's Bland! I know
his horse's trot."

"But you said he wouldn't mind my calling here," protested Duane.
"Euchre's with me. It'll be all right."

"Maybe so," she replied, with visible effort at self-control. Manifestly
she had a great fear of Bland. "If I could only think!"

Then she dragged Duane to the door, pushed him in.

"Euchre, come out with me! Duane, you stay with the girl! I'll tell
Bland you're in love with her. Jen, if you give us away I'll wring your
neck."

The swift action and fierce whisper told Duane that Mrs. Bland was
herself again. Duane stepped close to Jennie, who stood near the window.
Neither spoke, but her hands were outstretched to meet his own. They
were small, trembling hands, cold as ice. He held them close, trying to
convey what he felt--that he would protect her. She leaned against him,
and they looked out of the window. Duane felt calm and sure of himself.
His most pronounced feeling besides that for the frightened girl was a
curiosity as to how Mrs. Bland would rise to the occasion. He saw the
riders dismount down the lane and wearily come forward. A boy led away
the horses. Euchre, the old fox, was talking loud and with remarkable
ease, considering what he claimed was his natural cowardice.

"--that was way back in the sixties, about the time of the war," he
was saying. "Rustlin' cattle wasn't nuthin' then to what it is now. An'
times is rougher these days. This gun-throwin' has come to be a disease.
Men have an itch for the draw same as they used to have fer poker. The
only real gambler outside of greasers we ever had here was Bill, an' I
presume Bill is burnin' now."

The approaching outlaws, hearing voices, halted a rod or so from the
porch. Then Mrs. Bland uttered an exclamation, ostensibly meant to
express surprise, and hurried out to meet them. She greeted her husband
warmly and gave welcome to the other man. Duane could not see well
enou