For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted.

Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soul
mortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticed
her into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family he
hated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two of
his kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestors
he had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. The
Clantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud.

If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed.
Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach.

"Git a move on ye, gal," ordered Ranse after he had finished eating.
"You're goin' with us, so you better hurry."

"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully.

"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home."

"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you," jeered Hugh
Roush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heeled, 'Lindy Clanton.
Mebbe you won't hold yore head so high now."

The girl rode between them down from the hills. Who knows into what an
agony of fear and remorse and black despair she fell? She could not go
home a cast-off, a soiled creature to be scorned and pointed at. She
dared not meet her father. It would be impossible to look her little
brother Jimmie in the face. Would they believe the story she told? And if
they were convinced of its truth, what difference would that make? She