of the master's two hands on the arm that still held
the knife, and then dropped heavily downward. Even then, the hay that
had slipped before him would have broken his fall, but his head came in
violent contact with some farming implements standing against the wall,
and without a cry he was stretched senseless on the ground. The whole
occurrence passed so rapidly and so noiselessly that not only did
McKinstry's challenge fall upon his already unconscious ears, but the
loosened hay which in the master's struggles to recover himself still
continued to slide gently from the loft, actually hid him from the eyes
of the spectators who sought him a moment afterwards. A mass of hay
and wild oats, dislodged apparently by Mrs. McKinstry in securing
her defences, was all that met their eyes; even the woman herself was
unconscious of the deadly struggle that had taken place above her.

The master staggered to an upright position half choked and half blinded
with dust, turgid and bursting with the rush of blood to his head, but
clear and collected in mind, and unremorsefully triumphant. Unconscious
of the real extent of Seth's catastrophe he groped for and seized his
gun, examined the cap and eagerly waited for a renewed attack. "He tried
to kill me; he would have killed me; if he comes again I must kill him,"
he kept repeating to himself. It never occurred to him that this was
inconsistent with his previous thought--indeed with the whole tenor of
his belief. Perhaps the most peaceful man who has been once put in peril
of life by an adversary, who has recognized death threatening him in the
eye of his antagonist, is by some strange paradox not likely to hold his
own life or the life of his adversary as dearly as before. Everything
was silent now. The suspense irritated him, he no longer dreaded but
even longed for the shot that would precipitate hostilities. What were
they doing? Guided by Seth, were they concerting a fresh attack?

Listening more intently he became aware of a distant shouting, and even
more distinctly, of the dull, heavy trampling of hoofs. A sudden angry
fear that the McKinstrys had been beaten off and were flying--a fear and
anger that now for the first time identified him with their cause--came
over him, and he scrambled quickly towards the opening below. But the
sound was approaching and with it came a voice.

"Hold on there, sheriff!"

It was the voice of the agent Stacey.

There was a pause of reluctant