continued to approach, Sheila observed an evil
smile flash suddenly to Blanca's face; saw a glint of metal in the faint
light; heard the crash of his revolver; shuddered at the flame spurt. She
expected to see Dakota fall--hoped that he might. Instead, she saw him
smile--in much the fashion in which he had smiled that night in the cabin
when he had threatened to shoot the parson if she did not consent to marry
him. And then his hand dropped swiftly to the butt of the pistol at his
right hip.

Sheila's eyes closed; she swayed and felt her father's arm come out and
grasp her to keep her from falling. But she was not going to fall; she had
merely closed her eyes to blot out the scene which she could not turn
from. She held her breath in an agony of suspense, and it seemed an age
until she heard a crashing report--and then another. Then silence.

Unable longer to resist looking, Sheila opened her eyes. She saw Dakota
walk forward and stand over Blanca, looking down at him, his pistol still
in hand. Blanca was face down in the dust of the street, and as Dakota
stood over him Sheila saw the half-breed's body move convulsively and then
become still. Dakota sheathed his weapon and, without looking toward the
wagon in which Sheila sat, turned and strode unconcernedly down the
street. A man came out of the door of the saloon in front of which
Blanca's body lay, looking down at it curiously. Other men were running
toward the spot; there were shouts, oaths.

For the first time in her life Sheila had seen a man killed--murdered--and
there came to her a recollection of Dakota's words that night in the
cabin: "Have you ever seen a man die?" She had surmised from his manner
that night that he would not hesitate to kill the parson, and now she knew
that her sacrifice had not been made in vain. A sob shook her, the world
reeled, blurred, and she covered her face with her hands.

"Oh!" she said in a strained, hoarse voice. "Oh! The brute!"

"Hey!" From a great distance the driver's voice seemed to come. "Hey!
What's that? Well, mebbe. But I reckon Blanca won't rustle any more
cattle." "God!" he added in an awed voice; "both of them hit him!"

Blanca was dead then, there could be no doubt of that. Sheila felt herself
swaying and tried to grasp the end of the seat to steady herself. She
heard her father's voice raised in alarm, felt his arm come out again and
grasp her, and then darkness settled around her.

When she recovered conscio