LITMIR.BIZ

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and revealed a cabin. There they stopped.

      It was an old, mouldering trappers' cabin. On all sides of the little clearing the ground rose in rugged layers and the underbrush sprang up quickly between the trees. Not a great deal farther ahead Lilly saw the base of a half bald peak and he marked it as a place from which he might scour the valley below. Meanwhile there were other things to consider. Rest and food—and a plan for the future. For all her splendid endurance and courage, the mark of the night's ride was on the girl as she slid from the horse and looked uncertainly to Lilly.

      "Well," said she, "what are you planning now, Red?"

      Lilly grew unaccountably warm at her use of the name. The last twelve hours had revealed many things to her; she accepted him now. Drowsiness weighted her lids, but still there was a frank friendliness in her eyes, and unreserved trust.

      "First off we'll fix up a place for you to get a little sleep," he replied. "But not in that shack. If they pick up our trail—and I think they wall—they'll have a look at it. I'll spread the saddle blankets up in the brush for you. As for anything to eat, it appears as if we went on a water diet for a few meals."

      She waved that aside as unimportant. "I've been hungry before." Then she flushed a little, still holding his eyes. "I'm—I'm sorry. Most of this is my own fault. But Slim and Bill were two of Dad's trusted men. Even Trono was always kind to me. I had no idea—"

      "Yore dad," he reminded her, "was a powerful man. Nobody tried anything on him. They toed the mark and jumped at his word. But you can never tell what a fellow carries around in his mind. That crew puzzles me. A fine bunch of bandits! I'd think yore dad would have known what they were like."

      She was struggling to keep awake. "I think he did. You see Trono picked quarrels with some of our old hands and they quit. Usually there'd be a new man the next morning. Dad didn't like some of them—I could see that, though he never told me—but we had to have help and Trono always recommended them. So Dad took Trono's word. Now that I think of it. Trono seemed to do a lot of things, these last few months, that Dad used to do himself. Dad—was getting sick."

      "Uhuh. Trono packed the ranch with his own private bunch. Prob'ly bought Slim and Bill to his own side o' the fence. It's an old story. Well, it looks like a running fight for us. We'll do a lot of dodgin' before we can hit back."

      "You're the boss, Red. I'll not speak out of my turn from now on."

      That gave him courage to say what was in the back of his head. Through the long night ride he had come to a plan that he thought would work. "All right. We'll, sleep on it. Then, this afternoon we'll dodge into Powder and leave you."

      He was not quite prepared for her sudden awaking. Dissent flashed in the dark eyes. "What will I do there?"

      "Just wait until I get things in order."

      "And where will you be?"

      "Roamin' these hills and sort of scoutin' until I lay a few traps. Don't you worry, girl. Inside of three-four days I'll wash these bad, bold hombres off the map."

      "Leave me in town, doing nothing while you're up here fighting? No! I won't do it, Red."

      "But look here. I've got to leave you in a safe place. This is going to be a rough job."

      She was looking at him with a curious intensity. There was something of her father in that sharp, weighing, penetrating glance; something of the same forthright recklessness in the way she threw back her head and pursed her lips together. The rich color rose higher in her cheeks. "I'll ride with you. Do you think I'm a coward? This is my country and I'll fight for it. Oh, I know what you're thinking! How will I stand up! Don't you worry about me. And I don't care a rap what anybody thinks! Maybe I can't be of any help. Maybe I'll even hinder you. But I'd die in Powder. I'd feel like a shirker, thinking about you doing the hard work and me doing nothing. No, we'll ride together, Red."

      She spoke her mind and turned half away, as if afraid to see the effect on the man. Lilly fumbled for his cigarette papers, disturbed profoundly. This was not at all as he had planned it. What could she be thinking of, anyway? In the midst of these troubled reflections he caught her eyes—and his uncertainty vanished. She was a fighter, like her daddy. And she had forgotten, it seemed, that she was a woman. He doubted if she realized what a curious, gossiping world would have to say.

      "Red, I know what you're thinking. Never mind me. I don't belong to any social clubs and so they can't kick me out in disgrace. It's my business. I'm not an infant—and I will fight for JIB!"

      He nodded. "All right. That's settled. We'll get along somehow. Now for a siesta. Come along."

      He took off the saddles and appropriated the blankets, leading her well into the thicket. It was a rough bed, among the rocks, but when she settled down she was already half asleep. Lilly bent over and folded a loose end around her shoulders, wondering if ever a girl had been fashioned quite like Jill Breck. The dark hair was all tousled, making her strangely boyish. Yet no amount of sun or rain or rough riding could conceal the beauties of the clear white skin of her neck or the pink flush on her cheeks. She had a drowsy, warming smile for him. Then she was plunged in profound slumber.

      Lilly walked down the slope to where Pattipaws crouched against the side of the cabin, warming himself in a patch of sun.

      "Old-timer," said Lilly, "I've got a chore for you to do."

      "Um. Pattipaws do."

      "It's a long trip. Sleep first."

      The Indian shook his head. "Pattipaws no need sleep. Sleep for young bucks. You fix'm."

      Lilly found a pencil and piece of paper in his pocket and after staring thoughtfully at the ground wrote a very brief message, signing his first name. He folded it and passed it to the Indian who tucked it in a pocket. Thereafter for three or four minutes Lilly carefully explained the contents and delivered his instructions. In the end the Indian rose, jumped on one of the horses—scorning a saddle—and pushed through the brush. Lilly watched him go and listened until he could no longer hear the rustling of leaves and the click of hoofs on the stony ground.

      One more chore he had to do before finding himself a moment's rest. Hiding the horses deep in the forest and likewise caching the saddles where they could not be seen by prying eyes, he started toward the summit of the peak. It was a long, weary climb and more than a half hour elapsed before he reached the top. Once there he was rewarded by a magnificent sight of the whole valley. It lay before him as a map unrolled on a table with each depression and each knoll visible under the hot summer sun. Here was an isolated kingdom, elevated above the burning desolation of the desert outside the rimming Buttes. And in the center of it huddled the buildings of the JIB. He could see them as so many dark specks against the yellow earth.

      But as for moving figures, he saw none. Not a thing seemed to tenant the valley. No tell-tale wisp of dust kicked up behind a traveling cavalcade. Trono had buried himself; Lilly, venturing a shrewd guess, believed the foreman was already in the pine forest seeking his erstwhile prisoners. The thought hurried his inspection and he turned down the slope, plunging through the trees. By-and-by, he heard a sound and he stopped dead, searching the brush with cautious eyes. It came but once and after a few moments he proceeded onward, using a great deal more caution. A warning had come to him, not anything tangible that he could put his five senses to, but still a warning that stayed his feet when he reached the edge of the little clearing again. Heavy silence pervaded it, broken by the sudden heavy beating of a grouse's wings. Far off, he thought he heard the click of rock against rock.

      Very still, very peaceful—yet a quick, unfathomable excitement took possession of Lilly and, without displaying himself he withdrew and he circled higher in the brush, aiming for the girl's covert. He crossed a small valley of trees on his stomach, crawled over heavy boulders and half fell into the pit formed by an uprooted pine. And of a sudden he was looking at the very spot he had placed Jill. The ferns and smaller brush were trampled down on all sides, the blankets thrown carelessly aside. And the girl was not to be seen.

      She had vanished without warning. But at the end of twenty fleeting minutes Tom Lilly read the story all too well. Trono

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