darkly, as one groping, he reached for her with shaking hands.
"Y'u--y'u white-throated hussy!... I'll ..."

He grasped the quivering rifle barrel. Crash! She shot him again. As
he swayed over her and fell she had to leap aside, and his clutching
hand tore the rifle from her grasp. Then in convulsion he writhed, to
heave on his back, and stretch out--a ghastly spectacle. Ellen backed
away from it, her white arms wide, a slow horror blotting out the
passion of her face.

Then from without came a shrill call and the sound of rapid footsteps.
Ellen leaned against the wall, staring still at Colter. "Hey,
Jim--what's the shootin'?" called Springer, breathlessly.

As his form darkened the doorway Jean once again gathered all his
muscular force for a tremendous spring.

Springer saw the girl first and he appeared thunderstruck. His jaw
dropped. He needed not the white gleam of her person to transfix him.
Her eyes did that and they were riveted in unutterable horror upon
something on the ground. Thus instinctively directed, Springer espied
Colter.

"Y'u--y'u shot him!" he shrieked. "What for--y'u hussy? ... Ellen
Jorth, if y'u've killed him, I'll..."

He strode toward where Colter lay.

Then Jean, rising silently, took a step and like a tiger he launched
himself into the air, down upon the rustler. Even as he leaped
Springer gave a quick, upward look. And he cried out. Jean's
moccasined feet struck him squarely and sent him staggering into the
wall, where his head hit hard. Jean fell, but bounded up as the
half-stunned Springer drew his gun. Then Jean lunged forward with a
single sweep of his arm--and looked no more.

Ellen ran swaying out of the door, and, once clear of the threshold,
she tottered out on the grass, to sink to her knees. The bright,
golden sunlight gleamed upon her white shoulders and arms. Jean had
one foot out of the door when he saw her and he whirled back to get her
blouse. But Springer had fallen upon it. Snatching up a blanket, Jean
ran out.

"Ellen! Ellen! Ellen!" he cried. "It's over!" And reaching her, he
tried to wrap her in the blanket.

She wildly clutched his knees. Jean was conscious only of her white,
agonized face and the dark eyes with their look of terrible strain.

"Did y'u--did y'u..." she whispered.

"Yes--it's over," he said, gravely. "Ellen, the Isbel-Jorth feud is
ended."

"Oh, thank--God!" she cried, in breaking voice. "Jean--y'u are
wounded...