d nothing,
made no sound. Haig stared at her, the odious smile fading from his
lips; his arms slowly fell apart, one hand in the direction of the
revolver at his hip; and for a moment it seemed that he too would
yield to her. But suddenly he threw back his head, and laughed.

"By Jupiter!" he cried. "I didn't think it was in you. You almost got
me too. Good night--all!"

On that he turned on his heel, and vanished into the night. Marion
heard him laughing still as his boots crunched on the gravel; heard
his voice in brief and sharp command at the stable; heard the beat of
the sorrels' hoofs on the road, and the fragment of a song wafted back
to her,--something rollicking and insolent, in a foreign tongue. She
stood listening until the sounds had died away in the night, and
silence enveloped her. Then, just as Huntington leaped forward with a
bellow of rage,--too late, as ever,--and Claire, with a shriek, rushed
to throw herself between him and the door, Marion's head drooped
forward, her knees gave way, and she fell senseless on the floor.

Huntington's big revolver, slipping from her nerveless fingers as she
fell, struck the Navajo rug with a muffled thump, bounced and rolled
over, and settled down harmlessly on a patch of barbaric red.

CHAPTER IX

HEARTS INSURGENT

Seth recovered his revolver, and lunged toward the door. But Claire
was before him. She flung herself upon him, clutching the lapels of
his coat.

"Seth! Seth!" she shrieked. "What are you doing?"

"I'll follow him!" he roared. "I'll follow him! I'll end the whole
thing! I'll finish it, I tell you!"

"No! No!" she wailed; and clung to him frantically.

He was beside himself, almost incoherent, for the moment quite
irresponsible. It is very likely that, but for Claire, he would have
mounted a horse and pursued Haig to his ranch, with such consequences
as anybody except himself could easily have foreseen. But he was not
so far gone in frenzy as to hurt Claire, as he must have done in
tearing himself loose from her. He stood a moment in tragic
helplessness, grinding his teeth, and hurling muttered imprecations
out into the night that covered Philip Haig. Then he looked down at
the golden head pressed against his breast, and felt the frail body
quivering; and some sense of what he was doing, or was about to do,
reached his brain through the fumes of rage. There was yet a long
struggle; for he was too ponderous for quick decisions, and at t