ant in this supreme
moment. He rode with a plug of tobacco in hand, biting off huge pieces
frequently, more frequently squirting brown juices between lips white as
the telltale ring around his mouth--a ring as expressive as the hollows
beneath his glittering eyes. And Jim, ever worried, ever conscious of
himself, sat in his saddle easily, now that he was about to reap the
harvest of his ill-sown seeds, riding with eyes on the horse
alongside--Pat--studying with coolly critical gaze the animal's
smoothness of gait, wonderful carriage of head, unusual and beautiful
lifting of forelegs. Thus, in this valley of the shadow, each was his
true self and something more, or less, as the chaotic spirit within
viewed the immediate future or scanned the distant past.

Another shot from the posse--a screaming bullet high overhead--a command
to stop! But they did not stop. Instead, Johnson, rising in his
stirrups, unholstered a huge revolver and fired point-blank at the
rangers. It was the wrong thing to do, and instantly Jim drew away from
the leader. This left a clear gap between, and exposed the speeding
Glover ahead to fire from the rear. And suddenly it came, a volley of
rifle-shots, and Glover, stiffening suddenly, was seen to clutch at his
saddle-horn. Also, he turned his head and shoulders as if to cry out.
But he uttered not a sound. Evidently the jostling of his sorrel
forbade. He turned his head to the front again, and, slumping low in his
saddle, began frantic use of spur and quirt. But the sorrel had lost his
stride, and before he could regain it Jim and Johnson had dashed
alongside. Jim swung close and looked at Glover. Glover returned the
gaze, and again appeared about to speak. But now the sorrel flung
forward into his stride, and the movement seemed to decide Glover
against all utterance.

But Jim understood. He held close to Glover, but turned his eyes after
Johnson. Instantly he scowled and his mouth drew grimly down. For
Johnson was swinging off at a tangent, riding out of the set direction,
rapidly pulling away from them. For one sullen moment Jim regarded him;
then turned his head to the rear. One of the rangers, a young man
mounted on a graceful bay--with the rangers, yet apparently not one of
them--was riding well forward out of the group. Understanding Johnson's
move now, comprehending his utter selfishness in thus swinging away from
them, Jim gazed pityingly at Glover. But Glover did not notice him. He
hims