r voice was breathless as she asked, "You don't
believe him dead?"

Somebody had brought a lantern, and Dane felt inclined to gasp when he
saw the girl's white face, but what she felt was not his business then.

"He's of a kind that is very hard to kill. Hold that lantern so I can
see him," he said.

The rest waited silent, glad that there was somebody to take a lead,
and in a few moments Dane looked round again.

"Ride in to the settlement, Stapleton, and bring that Doctor fellow out
if you bring him by the neck. Stop just a moment. You don't know
where you're to bring him to."

"Here, of course," said the lad, breaking into a run.

"Wait," and Dane's voice stopped him. "Now, I don't fancy that would
do. It seems to me that this is a case in which a woman to look after
him would be necessary."

Then, before any of the married men or their wives who had followed
them could make an offer, Maud Barrington touched his shoulder.

"He is coming to the Grange," she said.

Dane nodded, signed to Stapleton, then spoke quickly to the men about
him and turned to Maud Barrington.

"Ride on at a gallop and get everything ready. I'll see he comes to no
harm," he said.

The girl felt curiously grateful as she rode out with her companion,
and Dane, who laid Winston carefully in a wagon, drew two of the other
men aside when it rolled away towards the Grange.

"There is something to be looked into. Did you notice anything unusual
about the affair?" he said.

"Since you asked me, I did," said one of the men. "I, however,
scarcely cared to mention it until I had time for reflection, but while
I fancy the regulation guards would have checked the fire on the
boundaries without our help, I don't quite see how one started in the
hollow inside them."

"Exactly," said Dane, very dryly. "Well, we have got to discover it,
and the more quickly we do it the better. I fancy, however, that the
question who started it is what we have to consider."

The men looked at one another, and the third of them nodded.

"I fancy it comes to that--though it is horribly unpleasant to admit
it," he said.

CHAPTER XVII

MAUD BARRINGTON IS MERCILESS

Dane overtook the wagon close by the birch bluff at Silverdale
Grange. It was late then, but there were lights in the windows that
blinked beyond the trees, and, when the wagon stopped, Barrington
stood in the entrance with one or two of his hired men. Accidents
are not infrequ