From behind the grove came the clicking sound of horses in a
rapid trot.

"Some of your riders," he continued. "It's getting time for the
night shift. Let us go out to the bench in the grove and talk
there."

It was still daylight in the open, but under the spreading
cottonwoods shadows were obscuring the lanes. Venters drew Jane
off from one of these into a shrub-lined trail, just wide enough
for the two to walk abreast, and in a roundabout way led her far
from the house to a knoll on the edge of the grove. Here in a
secluded nook was a bench from which, through an opening in the
tree-tops, could be seen the sage-slope and the wall of rock and
the dim lines of canyons. Jane had not spoken since Venters had
shocked her with his first harsh speech; but all the way she had
clung to his arm, and now, as he stopped and laid his rifle
against the bench, she still clung to him.

"Jane, I'm afraid I must leave you."

"Bern!" she cried.

"Yes, it looks that way. My position is not a happy one--I can't
feel right--I've lost all--"

"I'll give you anything you--"

"Listen, please. When I say loss I don't mean what you think. I
mean loss of good-will, good name--that which would have enabled