nd heard a low whisper in the air
around her.

She was roused by a sound that brought her up rigid and alert in the
saddle. What was that? A faint report, as of a gun--from somewhere.
She listened, turning her head slowly and cautiously, and holding her
breath. A long time, it seemed to her, she listened; and heard only
that warning whisper of the wind across the flat. But there! Another!
It came up faintly from below, expiring at the very edge of the
precipice. She peered guardedly down into the chasm, and saw nothing
but the vast pile of debris, and a bit of green meadow over against
the edge of the black forest. But it was a gun! She began now to
examine the edge of the cliff. To her left it fell sheer away hundreds
of feet to the lower masses of fallen stone; and there was no trail on
that side. Dismounting, she led her horse slowly along the brink at
her right; and so came at length to the spot where the trail dropped
to the first incline. It seemed incredible; but then, even as the word
framed itself in her mind, her heart bounded up into her throat.
There--there--under her eyes were hoofprints, the print of steel shoes
in the sand; and they went down, down, down. And, as if to remove the
last of doubt and hesitancy, there came wavering up from below a third
thin report, a little more distinct than the others, and undeniable.

She lifted her face toward the sky, and pressed her hands upon her
breast.

"God help us! God help us--both!" she murmured.

Then she remounted Tuesday, and forced him over the edge of the
cliff.

* * * * *

Haig lay on his back, his head against the stone by which he had
recovered the coveted revolver. A handkerchief dyed red and blackened
with powder stains lay against one cheek. His right hand still
clutched the revolver.

He did not move, and she thought him dead. Then, through the blackness
that enveloped her, she dully and slowly comprehended that his eyes
were closed, not staring up at her. She knelt swiftly, and pressed her
head to his breast; and then leaped to her feet with a wild outcry.

Tuesday stood a few yards away, with tail outstretched and nostrils
distended, gazing affrightedly at the body of Trixy lying in her
wretched heap. Marion ran to the saddle, and tore at the thongs that
held her bundle; jerked it loose, and bore it quickly to Haig's side;
and in a few seconds had placed the mouth of her whisky flask between
Haig