"Russ, for God's sake! What a terrible thing to say!" he ejaculated
hoarsely.

"No. It's not terrible to _say_ it--only the fact is terrible," I went
on. I may be wrong. But I swear I'm right. When you opened your coat,
showed that bloody breast--well, I'll never forget her eyes.

"She had been furious. She showed passion--hate. Then all in a second
something wonderful, beautiful broke through. Pity, fear, agonized
thought of your death! If that's not love, if--if she did not betray
love, then I never saw it. She thinks she hates you. But she loves you."

"Get out of here," he ordered thickly.

I went, not forgetting to peep out at the door and to listen a moment,
then I hurried into the open, up toward the ranch.

The stars were very big and bright, so calm, so cold, that it somehow
hurt me to look at them. Not like men's lives, surely!

What had fate done to Vaughn Steele and to me? I had a moment of
bitterness, an emotion rare with me.

Most Rangers put love behind them when they entered the Service and
seldom found it after that. But love had certainly met me on the way,
and I now had confirmation of my fear that Vaughn was hard hit.

Then the wildness, the adventurer in me stirred to the wonder of it all.
It was in me to exult even in the face of fate. Steele and I, while
balancing our lives on the hair-trigger of a gun, had certainly fallen