he acts sensible," Healy reassured.

"Don't you move from here. You stay right where you are," her brother
ordered sharply.

"Yes," she said, and was aware that her throat was suddenly parched.
"You'll be careful, won't you, Phil?"

"Sure," he called back, as he put his horse at a canter to follow his
friend up the draw.

The sound of the hoofs died away, and she was alone. That they were
going to circle in and out among the tangle of hills until they were
opposite the miscreant, she knew, but in spite of Brill's promise she
had a heart of water. With trembling fingers she raised the glasses
again, and focused them on that point which was to be the centre of the
drama.

The man was moving about now, quite unconscious of the danger that
menaced him. What she looked at was the great crime of Cattleland. All
her life she had been taught to hold it in horror. But now something
human in her was deeper than her detestation of the cowardly and awful
thing this man had just done. She wanted to cry out to him a warning,
and did in a faint, ineffective voice that carried not a tenth of the
distance between them.

She had promised to remain where she was, but her tense interest in what
was doing drew her forward in spite of herself. She rode along the ridge
that bordered the park, at first slowly and then quicker as the impulse
grew in her to be in at the finish.