. Keller before?"

"Yes."

"When? Speak up. Mind, no lying."

This, struck the first spark of spirit from her. The deep eyes flashed.
"I'm not in the habit of lying, sir."

"Then answer my question."

"I've met him at the office when he came for his mail. And the boys
arrested him by mistake for a rustler. I saw him when they brought him
in."

"By mistake. How do you know it was by mistake?"

"It was I accused him. But I did it because I was angry at him."

"You accused an innocent man of rustling because you were sore at him.
You're ce'tainly a pleasant young lady, Miss Sanderson."

Her look flashed defiance at him, but she said nothing. In her slim
erectness was a touch of feminine ferocity that gave him another idea.

"So you just rode into the canon, did you?"

"Yes."

"Meet up with anybody in the valley before you came in?"

"No."

His eyes were like steel drills. They never left her. "Quite sure?"

"Yes."

"What were you doing there?"

She had no answer ready. Her wild look went round in search of a friend
in this circle of enemies. They found him in the man who was a prisoner.
His steadfast eyes told her to have no fear.

"Did you hear what I said?" demanded Weaver.

"I was--riding."

"Alone?"

The answer came so slowly that it was barely audible. "Yes."

"Riding in Antelope Valley?"

"Yes."

"Let me see that gun." Weaver held out his hand for the rifle.

Phyllis looked at him and tried to fight against his domination; then
slowly she handed him the rifle. He broke and examined it. From the
chamber he extracted an empty shell.

Grim as a hanging judge, his look chiselled into her.

"I expect the lead that was in here is in my arm. Isn't that right?"

"I--I don't know."

"Who does, then? Either you shot me or you know who did."

Her gaze evaded his, but was forced at last to the meeting.

"I did it."

She was looking at him steadily now. Since the thing must be faced, she
had braced herself to it. It was amazing what defiant pluck shone out of
her soft eyes. This man of iron saw it, and, seeing, admired hugely the
gameness that dwelt in her slim body. But none of his admiration showed
in the hard, weather-beaten face.

"So they make bushwhackers out of even the girls among your rustling,
sheep-herding outfit!" he taunted.

"My people are not rustlers. They have a right to be on earth, even if
you don't want them there."

"I'll show them what rights they have got in t