murdered men surely
must have shamed Jorth and his followers. They did not fire a shot
during the ordeal nor give any sign of their presence.

Inside the cabin all were silent, too. Jean's eyes blurred so that he
continually had to wipe them. Old Isbel made no effort to hide his
tears. Blaisdell nodded his shaggy head and swallowed hard. The women
sat staring into space. The children, in round-eyed dismay, gazed from
one to the other of their elders.

"Wal, they're comin' back," declared Isbel, in immense relief. "An' so
help me--Jorth let them bury their daid!"

The fact seemed to have been monstrously strange to Gaston Isbel. When
the women entered the old man said, brokenly: "I'm shore glad.... An' I
reckon I was wrong to oppose you ... an' wrong to say what I did aboot
Jorth."

No one had any chance to reply to Isbel, for the Jorth gang, as if to
make up for lost time and surcharged feelings of shame, renewed the
attack with such a persistent and furious volleying that the defenders
did not risk a return shot. They all had to lie flat next to the
lowest log in order to keep from being hit. Bullets rained in through
the window. And all the clay between the logs low down was shot away.
This fusillade lasted for more than an hour, then gradually the fire
diminished on one side and then on the other until it became desultory
and finally ceased.

"Ahuh! Shore they've shot their bolt," declared Gaston Isbel.

"Wal, I doon't know aboot that," returned Blaisdell, "but they've shot
a hell of a lot of shells."

"Listen," suddenly called Jean. "Somebody's yellin'."

"Hey, Isbel!" came in loud, hoarse voice. "Let your women fight for
you."

Gaston Isbel sat up with a start and his face turned livid. Jean
needed no more to prove that the derisive voice from outside had
belonged to Jorth. The old rancher lunged up to his full height and
with reckless disregard of life he rushed to the window. "Jorth," he
roared, "I dare you to meet me--man to man!"

This elicited no answer. Jean dragged his father away from the window.
After that a waiting silence ensued, gradually less fraught with
suspense. Blaisdell started conversation by saying he believed the
fight was over for that particular time. No one disputed him.
Evidently Gaston Isbel was loath to believe it. Jean, however,
watching at the back of the kitchen, eventually discovered that the
Jorth gang had lifted the siege. Jean saw them congregate at t