other weddings in New York
as well as in the cattle country, and knew what pomp and festivities would
have attended hers had she married with her father's goodwill. After all,
it was the greatest day in most women's lives, and she felt the
unseemliness of the rite that had made her and Larry man and wife. Still,
the fact remained, and, brushing her misgivings away, she glanced up at
her husband.

"It must concern us both now," she said. "May I hear?"

"Well," said the judge, who looked a trifle embarrassed, "I guess you are
right, and Larry would have to tell you; but it's not a pleasant task to
me. It is just this--we can't keep you and your husband any longer in this
town."

"Are you against us, too?" Hetty asked, with a flash in her eyes. "I am
not afraid."

The judge made her a little respectful inclination. "You are Torrance of
Cedar's daughter, and everyone knows the kind of grit there is in that
family. While I knew the cattle-men would raise a good deal of
unpleasantness when I married you, I did it out of friendliness for Larry;
but it is my duty to uphold the law, and I can't have your husband's
friends and your father's cow-boys making trouble here."

"Larry," said the girl tremulously, "we must go on again."

Grant's face grew stern. "No," he said. "You shall stay here in spite of
them until you feel fit to ride for the railroad."

Just then a man came in. "Battersly saw Torrance with the Sheriff and
Clavering and quite a band of cow-boys ride by the trail forks an hour
ago," he said. "They were heading for Hamlin's, but they'd make this place
in two hours when they didn't find Larry there."

There was an impressive silence. Hetty shuddered, and the fear in her eyes
was unmistakable when she laid her hand on her husband's arm.

"We must go," she said. "It would be too horrible if you should meet
him."

"Mrs. Grant is right," said the storekeeper. "We know Torrance of Cedar,
and if you stayed here, Larry, you and she might be sorry all your lives.
Now, you could, by riding hard, make Canada to-morrow."

Grant stifled a groan, and though his face was grim his voice was
compassionate as he turned to Hetty.

"Are you very tired?" he said gently. "It must be the saddle again."

Hetty said nothing, but she pressed his arm, and her eyes shone mistily
when they went out together. Half an hour later they rode out of the town,
and Grant turned to her when the clustering houses dipped behind a billowy