"There isn't a grey horse on the ranch, and--oh!"

For the gate of the corral creaked and then swung wide. They could not
see Alcatraz, for the bay mares stood between.

"Don't move, don't speak!" whispered the girl. "It's that stupid Lucas
man. I told Lew Hervey that he was too careless to take care of the
mares; and the first thing he's done is to leave the gate unlatched.
I'll steal around and--"

At the first sound of the voice the grey mare had drifted deeper into
the safety of the night; Alcatraz with a careful effort pulled open the
gate; and the wind, aiding him, blew it wide, and now the soft whinny of
invitation to the mares cut into the words of Marianne. She went around
the corral bending low, skulking in her run; for once the mares got out
the gate they might bolt like crazy things and come to harm in the
murderous barbed-wire fences. Shorty was hurrying around on the other
side.

Before she had taken half a dozen steps the neigh of the stallion,
deafeningly loud, brought her to a halt with her hands clasped. She saw
the mares start under the alarm-call and rush for the gate; in a moment
their hoofs were volleying down the road and the wail of Marianne went
shrilling: "Lew Hervey! Lew Hervey! They're gone!"

Lew Hervey, in the bunkhouse, pushed away his cards and rose with a
curse. "That's what comes of working for a woman," he growled. "No
peace. No rest. Work day and night. And if you ain't kept working you're
just kept worried. It's hell!"