nd as he filled his lungs to their
depths with the keen, clean air his knees tightened upon his saddle, his
fingers involuntarily closed about the butt of the gun that protruded
from the waistband of his corduroy trousers. "All friends together," he
muttered, and again he smiled--grimly.

CHAPTER XXV

JANET PAYS A CALL

Janet McWhorter rose early upon the morning following her talk with the
Texan. Dressing hurriedly, she blew out her candle and hastened to the
door. Toward the east the coulee rim showed dimly against the first
faint blush of dawn. She wondered if the Texan still slept and whether
she ought not to waken him and ask him to breakfast. As she stood in the
doorway, man and horse emerged from the stable. She withdrew into the
blackness of the room and in the dim light of the unborn day watched him
mount. She saw the big roan try to sink his head. Noted the ease with
which the man foiled the attempt. Heard the sound of his voice as he
spoke to the unruly horse as one would speak to a mischievous child.
Then, horse and rider disappeared in the darkness of the valley. The
girl stood there in the darkness until the sound of hoof-beats died
away. There was a certain rugged grimness in the scene. It was like the
moving finger of fate--this silent horseman riding away into the dawn.
Her lips moved: "I wish you--luck!" she breathed, "even if--even if--"
She stepped from the cabin and glanced up at the paling stars. "Oh, I
know!" she exclaimed, bitterly, "I saw it in his eye when I mentioned
the reward. It isn't the reward he wants--it's _her_!" Hastening to the
woodpile, she gathered kindlings and returned to the house and prepared
her father's breakfast.

Neither by word or look did McWhorter refer to the conversation of the
evening before. The meal concluded he betook himself to the
lambing-camp. Left alone, Janet washed and put away the dishes, tidied
up the cabin, fed her orphan lambs, and looked after the little
"hospital band" of sheep. Then she pitched a forkful of hay into the
corral for the bay mare and returned to the cabin. Picking up a
magazine, she threw herself into a chair and vainly endeavoured to
interest herself in its contents. Ten minutes later she flung the
magazine onto the table and, hastening into her own room, dressed for a
ride. Stepping to the wall she removed a six-gun and a belt of
cartridges from a peg and buckled the belt about her waist. Drawing the
gun from its holster, s