ey do outside? Killed all th' hogs we had one night
an' piled 'em in a heap in th' front door yard! That was hint enough,
but I kep' a-thinkin' that ef we behaved decent like, an' minded our
own business we sartainly must win out. We did," he added grimly after
a little pause, "like hell. An' how many others of th' settlers has
gone through th' like? We ain't no tin gods ourselves, I own, but we
got t' fight fire with fire. Only I ain't got no more light-wood," he
finished quaintly, "I got to quit."

There was another silence while the tree-toads sang. Then the man held
out his hand, hardened and warped with the unceasing toil of those
tragic years.

"Good-bye, Tharon," he said, "I wisht Jim Last was here. With him gone
Lost Valley's in Courtrey's hand an' no mistake. He was th' only man
dared face him an' hold his own. Last's was th' only head th' weaker
faction had, its master their only leader. While he lived we had some
show, us leetle fellers. Now there ain't no leader. Th' ranchers'll go
out fast now. It'll be a one-man valley."

In the soft darkness Tharon took the extended hand, held it a moment
and laid her other one upon it.

"John Dement," she quietly said, "I want you to go home an' bar your
house for fight. Fix up your fences, unpack your duffle. In the
morning my riders will drive down to your place a hundred head o'
cattle. You put your brand on em. There's goin' to be no one-man
doin's in Lost Valley yet awhile--not while Jim Last's daughter
lives. See," she dropped his hand and pointed to the east where the
tall pine lifted to the stars, "out yonder there's a cross at Jim
Last's grave--an' there's my mark on it. Th' settlers have a leader
still--an' I name myself that leader. I'm set against Courtrey, now
an' forever. I mean to fight him t' th' last inch o' ground in Lost
Valley, th' last word o' law, th' last drop o' blood, both his an'
mine. You go down among 'em--th' settlers--an' take 'em that word from
me. Tell 'em Jim Last's daughter stands facin' Courtrey, an' she'll
need at her back t' fight him every man in Lost Valley that ain't a
coward."

When the settler had gone, incoherent and half-incredulous, Conford
drew a long breath and looked at his mistress in the dusk.

"Tharon, dear," he said so gently that his words were like a caress
"you're jest a-breakin' your riders' hearts. You're heapin' anxiety on
us mountain-high. Now what on earth'll we do?"

Young Billy Brent pushed near and s