her own house to some unknown hiding place enraged him beyond measure. He struck the flank of his horse, swearing softly.
"Damn 'em, they can't get away with it! They can't do it! By the Lord Harry, I'll kill the man if he hurts her! I'll run the legs off him!"
He spurred along the trail, growing reckless. During the fore part of the morning he had been very careful; the farther he traveled across the undulating floor of the valley the less heed he took of his own safety. He kept recalling the old man's last words. "You take care o the gal, Red." What a fine job he'd done so far! For all the good he'd accomplished he might as well be in China. Then he kept seeing her as she was in the covert, her black hair tousled, her sleepy eyes smiling upward at him. The fighting rage welled up and flowed over. Rising in the stirrups he scanned the ground ahead.
Once, toward noon, he thought he saw something moving along the skyline near the homestead and he turned toward it, quickening the pace. Up and down the rolling slopes he galloped, the wild temper overmastering his caution. Once indeed he drew rein to give his horse a brief rest and in the breathing space he recalled Joe Breedlove's sage remarks about the unnecessary trouble red-head gents brought down upon themselves. He threw the thought aside and went on. "Joe never got into a jackpot like this," he muttered, squinting against the hard, glittering light. What good came of holding back, of caution? He had been careful and see what had come of it! "I ain't made on that plan," he reflected. "Better stick to my own method o' fightin'. And by the Lord Harry, I'll nail Trono's hide to the wall!"
The long chase was rewarded at last. When he reached the top of a swelling ridge he saw the homestead shack nestling in the cottonwoods a hundred yards away. Around it were three horses, and loitering in the shade were three men. They saw him the moment he came in view and, as he was against the sun, mistook him for one of the JIB crew. That was all the favor he needed. Drawing his gun he raced down upon them, seeing Trono's massive frame rise slowly and then come to astonished attention and swift recognition. The bawling voice broke the silence.
"Hey—it's the red-head!" And his big fist swooped downward.
Lilly stopped him with a shot that furrowed the sand. "Cut that! You other two boys put 'em in the air! Nev' mind edgin' to'rds the door! I ain't in no good humor right now." His attention snapped back to Trono. "You dirty pirate, what'd you do with Jill?"
Trono, hands half raised, looked toward the man on his left and winked broadly. "Hear him," he grunted. "That's a big bluff for certain. Red, yuh oughta know where she is since yore the one that took her away. Here, yuh be careful o' that cannon! Goin' to shoot me cold?"
Lilly, shifting his glance toward the others, realized they were both strangers; neither were JIB hands. The one to whom Trono had spoken had a pair of cold gray eyes and a clean shaven face that at present wrinkled in puzzlement. Trono broke in, "Yuh fool! Tryin' to bluff it out now? it won't wash. This yere's the sheriff an' he's lookin' fer yuh. Better put down yore gun. Yuh can't bluff the law, kid!"
Lilly slid from the saddle advancing on Trono. "Listen," said he, checking the volcanic eruption of anger, "I'm of no mind to be played with. Yore goin' to tell me what you did with Jill Breck an' yore goin' to do it sudden. Hear that? I'm a white man, but by the Lord Harry I'll use Injun methods if you stand there an' fool me! Know what that means, don't you?"
A side glance into the cabin had told him the girl was not around the homestead; and the three horses likewise indicated there had been a shifting of the original party. As to this stranger being a sheriff, that was a bluff. Even so the man did not bear the stamp of Trono's breed. He looked honest. Meanwhile the JIB foreman shifted his weight and, seeing the expression on Lilly's face, he began to sputter.
"That don't get you by! If you touch me you'll live to regret it!"
Lilly was on the point of replying when the man with the honest face broke in, speaking quietly and with a certain clear assurance. "Put yore gun down, boy. I declare yore under arrest." With that announcement he hitched his shoulder in a way that threw his coat aside, displaying a star.
"Arrest me?" demanded Lilly. "And what for?"
"Kidnappin' Jill Brock," announced the official. "When the doc got back to Powder he said the situation out here was in poor shape, so I rode over. First thing I found was you'd gone off with the gal an' the whole ranch was lookin' fer you. That's a serous offense, my boy."
"Yore takin' Trono's word against mine?"
The sheriff seemed to have some certain mental reservations. In the end he shrugged his shoulder. "Yore a stranger here. All the JIB boys stick to the same story. Deliver me yore gun."
Lilly was shaking his head. "Don't propose to do it, sher'ff. They may have you deceived, but they ain't got me that way. If I got to buck the law to find Jill Breck it's plumb too bad. But I aim to wring a confession out of Trono or cripple him in the attempt."
There was a movement of the sheriff's eye and a sudden relief on Trono's sweating face. At the same time a cool voice spoke from Lilly's rear. "Yore covered. Drop the gun."
Lilly stood immobile for one long, desperate instant. In the end he nodded briefly, passing his revolver to the sheriff and locking his lips to keep in the flood of bitter disappointment. Trono, relieved of danger, sprang forward with an upraised fist. "Now who's goin' to do the cripplin', you—"
"Back off," said the sheriff, coldly. "You'll do nothing to this man. He goes to Powder."
"He oughta be lynched here an' now," muttered Trono. "If the rest o' my crew was around you'd have a hard time gettin' him off safe."
"So?" grunted the sheriff. "Trono, you don't talk sense."
Another man moved into view, the one who had caught Lilly from behind. He, too, was a stranger, and doubtless of the sheriff's party. "Good thing," said he, "I happened to stray off."
The sheriff motioned Lilly to get in the saddle. Meanwhile he and his deputies found their animals and mounted, leaving Trono alone. The heavy man was frowning deeply and the sheriff, catching sight of his temper, stopped to issue a warning. "Don't get it in yore head you can raid the jail, either. There'll be no lynchin' in my bailiwick."
"You goin' to let him go off 'thout tellin' where he's got the gal!" bawled Trono.
"That will develop," said the sheriff, cryptically and started on. The deputies fell in behind. They rode as far as the main trail through the Pass before Lilly roused himself to speak. "So this is justice in Robey County."
"Sometimes," stated the sheriff, "justice don't show her face completely to the onlooker."
When Lilly turned to look at the sheriff, the latter was smiling slightly. That smile engrossed Lilly's attention all the long weary ride into town and puzzled him even when he had been locked behind the cell door.
TRONO VERSUS STUBBINS
"Hark to me, amigo: a woman may shorely be a weak vessel but she's got more ways o' fightin' than a man ever heard about. It ain't because o' chivalry a man don't want to hit a lady—it's because o' fear o' gettin' a fine lickin'. You bet."—Joe Breedlove.
Jill Breck had fallen asleep instantly in the hidden glade. But it was not a dreamless sleep; the long ride and all the discouraging, tragic incidents of the day had bruised her profoundly and left unforgettably vivid pictures in her mind. So she dreamed; terrifying dreams that at times brought helpless cries from her. It seemed she was being led away from the JIB, that the house and quarters were going up in flames. She was being roughly treated and each time she protested a vise-like fist closed around her throat. She was driven to a strange country—to the chasm of a river she could not recognize. Above the roar and rush of water she felt a heavy fist closed about her wrist and someone spoke ironically.
"What yuh shoutin' about, sister?"
She woke with a scream in her throat. Trono, his face beet-red and glistening