"Why did you come to Cottonwoods?"

Her question seemed to break a spell. The rider arose as if he
had just remembered himself and had tarried longer than his wont.

"Ma'am, I have hunted all over the southern Utah and Nevada for--
somethin'. An' through your name I learned where to find it--here
in Cottonwoods."

"My name! Oh, I remember. You did know my name when you spoke
first. Well, tell me where you heard it and from whom?"

"At the little village--Glaze, I think it's called--some fifty
miles or more west of here. An' I heard it from a Gentile, a
rider who said you'd know where to tell me to find--"

"What?" she demanded, imperiously, as Lassiter broke off.

"Milly Erne's grave," he answered low, and the words came with a
wrench.

Venters wheeled in his chair to regard Lassiter in amazement, and
Jane slowly raised herself in white, still wonder.

"Milly Erne's grave?" she echoed, in a whisper. "What do you know
of Milly Erne, my best-beloved friend--who died in my arms? What
were you to her?"

"Did I claim to be anythin'?" he inquired. "I know