ved for emergencies. But Snake appeared perfectly able and willing
to hold it and never stumbled or slowed unexpectedly as did
Yellowjacket, wherefore Lorraine rode faster than she would have done
had she known more about horses.

Still, Snake held his own better than even Jim would have believed, and
carried Lorraine up over Granite Ridge and down into the Sawtooth flat
almost as quickly as Lorraine expected him to do. She came up to the
Sawtooth ranch-houses with Snake in a lather of sweat and with her own
determination unweakened to carry the war into the camp of her enemy. It
was, she firmly believed, what should have been done long ago; what
would have curbed effectually the arrogant powers of the Sawtooth.

She glanced at the foreman's cottage only to make sure that Hawkins was
nowhere in sight there, and rode on toward the corrals, intercepting
Hawkins and a large, well-groomed, smooth-faced man whom she knew at
once must be Senator Warfield himself. Unconsciously Lorraine mentally
fitted herself into a dramatic movie "scene" and plunged straight into
the subject.

"There has been," she said tensely, "another Sawtooth accident. It
worked better than the last one, when my father was sent over the grade
into Spirit Canyon. Frank Johnson is _dead_. I am here to discover what
you are going to do about it?" Her eyes were flashing, her chest was
rising and falling rapidly when she had finished. She looked straight
into Senator Warfield's face, her own full in the sunlight, so that, had
there been a camera "shooting" the scene, her expression would have been
fully revealed--though she did not realize all that.

Senator Warfield looked her over calmly (just as a director would have
wished him to do) and turned to Hawkins. "Who is this girl?" he asked.
"Is she the one who came here temporarily--deranged?"

"She's the girl," Hawkins affirmed, his eyes everywhere but on
Lorraine's face. "Brit Hunter's daughter--they say."

"They _say_? I _am_ his daughter! How dare you take that tone, Mr.
Hawkins? My home is at the Quirt. When you strike at the Quirt you
strike at me. When you strike at me I am going to strike back. Since I
came here two men have been killed and my father has been nearly killed.
He may die yet--I don't know what effect this shock will have upon him.
But I know that Frank is dead, and that it's up to me now to see that
justice is done. You--you cowards! You will kill a man for the sake of a
few dollars