overflowed in words.

"She doesn't say what it is, but--I know her. She's crazy with
fear--or heartache--or something." Wild Rose was always
quick-tempered, a passionate defender of children and all weak
creatures. Now Lane knew that the hot blood was rushing stormily to
her heart. Her little sister was in danger, the only near relative she
had. She would fight for her as a cougar would for its young. "By
God, if it's a man--if he's done her wrong--I'll shoot him down like a
gray wolf. I'll show him how safe it is to--to--"

She broke down again, clamping tight her small strong teeth to bite
back a sob.

He spoke very gently. "Does she say--?"

His sentence hung suspended in air, but the young woman understood its
significance.

"No. The letter's just a--a wail of despair. She--talks of suicide.
Kirby, I've got to get to Denver on the next train. Find out when it
leaves. And I'll send a telegram to her to-night telling her I'll fix
it. I will too."

"Sure. That's the way to talk. Be reasonable an' everything'll work
out fine. Write your wire an' I'll take it right to the office. Soon
as I've got the train schedule I'll come back."

"You're a good pal, Kirby. I always knew you were."