-worded always was the old man;
as few-worded was the young man now.

"You are a damn' scoundrel, sir!"

"You will draw your men off. You will pay for the damage Blenham has
done."

"By God, sir!"

There was little more said. That thunderous "By God, sir!" from the
old man's lips carried to Terry where she stood tight pressed against
her rock. And then all unexpectedly and from an unexpected quarter,
came the first rifle-shot.

The first shot and the second, close together. The bullets passed
between grandfather and grandson, kicking up little puffs of dust
beyond them. Neither looked to see whence the shots came. The thought
was in each mind:

"Is this a Packard I am dealing with? Setting one of his hired
assassins to shooting from a blind?"

The old man's rifle was thrown up before him; Steve's rose with it.
Over yonder old Packard's men squared themselves in their saddles and
made ready for grim work. Yellow Barbee gave a signal all unneeded to
his men; his own rifle in his eager hands, was ready, the trigger
yielding to his calloused forefinger.

And then from the flinty spire of a peak rising between them and a sun
that was slowly wheeling into the clear sky, came scream after scream
that echoed and billowed across the open lands as Terry Temple, seeing
something of the truth, cried out in terrified desperation and warning.

A girl's voice screaming--Old man Packard turned sharply and stared in
wonderment. Terry's voice--Steve swung about, his anger suddenly
quenched in alarm, his eyes seeking everywhere for her.

It was Barbee who saw her first. Barbee called out, a strange note in
his voice, and clapped his spurs to his horse's sides and went racing
across the undulating lands toward her. Then Steve saw and old man
Packard and the rest. Saw but at first could not understand: the sun
was just behind her, winking into their eyes. There was some one with
her, struggling with her.

"Blenham!" shouted Steve.

And he was racing wildly along after Barbee, yearning to shoot to kill
and yet not daring to shoot at all. Blenham and Terry struggling upon
the iron side of the mountain, Terry striking and striking at him
frantically, Blenham with his arms about her, dragging her back toward
a wide fissure in the rocks, the sun bright above them.

To Terry it seemed that the universe had come crashing down about her
ears. A moment ago, tense and rigid and breathless, she had stood
watching two m