d made him value the opinions of men. In the old days he
had been a rustler and worse, but no crime had ever been proved against
him. He could hold his head up, and he did. But the shock to his pride
and self-esteem that night had produced in him a species of
disintegration. He had drunk heavily and almost constantly. It had been
during the sour temper following such a bout that he had quarreled with
and shot the Ute. From that hour his declension had been swift. How far
he had gone was shown by the way he had taken Dillon's great service to
him. The thing rankled in his mind, filled him with surging rage whenever
he thought of it. He hated the young fellow more than ever.

But as he walked with June, slender, light-swinging, warm with young,
sensuous life, the sultry passion of the man mounted to his brain and
overpowered caution. His vanity whispered to him. No woman saved a man
from death unless she loved him. She might give other reasons, but that
one only counted. It was easy for him to persuade himself that she always
had been fond of him at heart. There had been moments when the quality of
her opposition to him had taken on the color of adventure.

"I'll leave you at the corner," she said. "Go back of that house and
through the barbed-wire fence. You'll be in the sage then."

"Come with me to the fence," he whispered. "I got something to tell
you."

She looked at him, sharply, coldly. "You've got nothing to tell me that I
want to hear. I'm not doing this for you, but to save the lives of my
friends. Understand that."

They were for the moment in the shadow of a great cottonwood. Houck
stopped, devouring her with his hungry eyes. Bad as the man was, he had
the human craving of his sex. The slim grace of her, the fundamental
courage, the lift of the oval chin, touched a chord that went vibrating
through him. He snatched her to him, crushing his kisses upon the
disturbing mouth, upon the color spots that warmed her cheeks.

She was too smothered to cry out at first. Later, she repressed the
impulse. With all her strength she fought to push him from her.

A step sounded, a cry, the sound of a smashing blow going home. Houck
staggered back. He reached for a revolver.

June heard herself scream. A shot rang out. The man who had rescued her
crumpled up and went down. In that horrified moment she knew he was Bob
Dillon.

CHAPTER XLIII

NOT EVEN POWDER-BURNT

Houck stood over the prostrate man, the sm