bsurd to accuse Venters of being mixed up in that shooting fray in the
village last night. He was with me at the time. Besides, he let me take
charge of his guns. You're only using this as a pretext. What do you
mean to do to Venters?"

"I'll tell you presently," replied Tull. "But first tell me why you
defend this worthless rider?"

"Worthless!" exclaimed Jane, indignantly. "He's nothing of the kind.
He was the best rider I ever had. There's not a reason why I shouldn't
champion him and every reason why I should. It's no little shame to me,
Elder Tull, that through my friendship he has roused the enmity of my
people and become an outcast. Besides I owe him eternal gratitude for
saving the life of little Fay."

"I've heard of your love for Fay Larkin and that you intend to adopt
her. But--Jane Withersteen, the child is a Gentile!"

"Yes. But, Elder, I don't love the Mormon children any less because I
love a Gentile child. I shall adopt Fay if her mother will give her to
me."

"I'm not so much against that. You can give the child Mormon teaching,"
said Tull. "But I'm sick of seeing this fellow Venters hang around you.
I'm going to put a stop to it. You've so much love to throw away on
these beggars of Gentiles that I've an idea you might love Venters."

Tull spoke with the arrogance of a Mormon whose power could not be
brooked and with the passion of a man in whom jealousy had kindled a
consuming fire.

"Maybe I do love him," said Jane. She felt both fear and anger stir her
heart. "I'd never thought of that. Poor fellow! he certainly needs some
one to love him."

"This'll be a bad day for Venters unless you deny that," returned Tull,
grimly.

Tull's men appeared under the cottonwoods and led a young man out into
the lane. His ragged clothes were those of an outcast. But he stood tall
and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his
bound arms rippling and a blue flame of defiance in the gaze he bent on
Tull.

For the first time Jane Withersteen felt Venters's real spirit. She
wondered if she would love this splendid youth. Then her emotion cooled
to the sobering sense of the issue at stake.

"Venters, will you leave Cottonwoods at once and forever?" asked Tull,
tensely.

"Why?" rejoined the rider.

"Because I order it."

Venters laughed in cool disdain.

The red leaped to Tull's dark cheek.

"If you don't go it means your ruin," he said, sharply.

"Ruin!" exclaimed Venters, pas