shook him, excitedly.

"True? Why, Ruth, girl; it's as true as there's a Supreme Bein' above us.
Why----"

But she waited to hear no more, turning from him and putting out her
hands to keep Aunt Martha away as she passed her. She went out to the
corral, got her pony, saddled it, mounted, and rode over the plains
toward the break in the canyon wall. Uncle Jepson had one quick glimpse
of her eyes as she turned from him, and he knew there would be no Monday
for Willard Masten.

Ruth had no feelings as she rode. The news had stunned her. She had only
one thought--to see Hagar Catherson, to confirm or disprove Uncle
Jepson's story. She could not have told whether the sun was shining, or
whether it was afternoon or morning. But she must see Hagar Catherson at
once, no matter what the time or the difficulties. She came to the break
in the canyon after an age, and rode through it, down across the bed of
the river, over the narrow bridle path that led to the Catherson cabin.

The dog Nig did not greet her this time; he was stretched out on his
belly, his hind legs gathered under him, his forelegs stuck out in front,
his long muzzle extending along them, while he watched in apparent
anxiety the face of his master, Abe Catherson, who was sitting on the
edge of the porch, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, in an
attitude of deep dejection. The dog's concern was for Catherson's future
actions, for just a few minutes before he had witnessed a scene that had
made his hair bristle, had brought ugly growls out of him, had plunged
him into such a state of fury that he had, for one wild instant,
meditated a leap at his master's throat. He had seen his master leap upon
his mistress and raise his hand to strike her. If the blow had been
struck--Nig would have leaped, then, no matter what the consequences.

Catherson had not struck. But one great, dominating passion was in his
mind at this moment--the yearning to slay! The dog had seen him, twice
during the last half hour, draw out his heavy six-shooter and examine it,
and each time the dog had growled his disapproval of the action. And on
both occasions Catherson had muttered thickly: "I wish I knowed, for
sure. A man can't do nothin' if he don't know. But I reckon it was him!"

He looked up to see Ruth coming toward him. The girl had seen him
twice--had spoken to him. He was a bearded giant, grizzled, unkempt, with
hairy arms, massive and muscled superbly, and great hand