been beaten to his goal. He paused
in the shadow of the arch to take stock of his position. The squat
arcade of 'dobe surrounding the patio was lighted vaguely by a single
lantern at his left. It barely served to make the shadowy outlines of
the house visible, the heavy arches, roughly sketched doorways, and
hinted at the forms of the cowpunchers who were ranged under the far
arcade for their after-dinner smoke, all eagerly listening to the
dialogue between the mistress and the foreman. When a breath of wind
made the flame jump in the lantern chimney a row of grinning faces
stood out from the shadow.

Marianne sat in a deep chair which made her appear girlishly slight.
The glow of the reading lamp on the table beside her fell on her hair,
cast a highlight on her cheek, and showed her hand lying on the open
book in her lap, palm up. There was something about that hand which
spoke to Perris of helpless surrender, something more in the gloomy
eyes which looked up to the foreman where he leaned against a pillar.
The voice drawled calmly to an end: "And that's what he is, this gent
you got to finish what me and the rest started. Here he is to tell you
that I've spoke the truth."

With the uncanny Western keenness of vision, Hervey had caught sight
of the approaching Perris from the corner of his eye. He turned now
and welcomed the hunter with a wave of his hand. Marianne drew herself
up with her hands clasped together in her lap and though in this new
attitude her face was in complete shadow, Perris felt her eyes
burning out at him. His dismissal was at hand, he knew, and then the
carelessly defiant speech which was forming in his throat died away.
Sick at heart, he realized that he must cringe under the hand which
was about to strike and be humble under the very eye of Hervey. He was
no longer free and the chain which held him was the conviction that
he could never be happy until he had met and conquered wild Alcatraz,
that he was as incomplete as a holster without a gun or a saddle
without stirrups until the speed and the great heart of the stallion
were his to control and command.

"I've heard everything from Lew Hervey," said the girl, in that low
strained voice which a woman uses when her self-control is barely as
great as her anger, "and I suppose I don't need to say that after
these days of waiting, Mr. Perris, I'm disappointed. I shall need you
no longer. You are free to go without giving notice. The experiment
h