It was a night of both moon and stars. She had to cross a space washed in

silvery light, taking the chance that nobody would see her. But first she

stooped in the shadows to slip the shoes upon her feet. Her heart beat

against her side as she had once seen that of a frightened mouse do. It

seemed impossible for her to cover all that moonlit open unseen. Every

moment she expected an alarm to ring out in the silent night. But none

came.

Safely she reached the big rocks. A voice called to her softly. She

answered, and came face to face with Boone. A drawn revolver was in his

hand.

"You made it," he panted, as a man might who had been running hard.

"Yes," she whispered. "But they'll soon know. Let us get away."

"If you hadn't come I was going in to kill him."

She noticed the hard glitter in his eyes as he spoke, the crouched look of

the padding tiger ready for its kill. The man was torn with hatred and

jealousy.

Already they were moving back through the rocks to a dry wash that ran

through the valley. The bed of this they followed for nearly a mile.

Deflecting from it they pushed across the valley toward what appeared to

be a sheer rock wall. With a twist to the left they swung back of a face

of rock, turned sharply to the right, and found themselves in a fissure

Melissy had not at all expected. Here ran a little cañon known only to

those few who rode up and down it on the nefarious business of their

unwholesome lives.

Boone spoke harshly, breaking for the first time in half an hour his moody

silence.

"Safe at last. By God, I've evened my score with Black MacQueen."

And from the cliff above came the answer--a laugh full of mocking deviltry

and malice.

The Arkansan turned upon Melissy a startled face of agony, in which

despair and hate stood out of a yellow pallor.

"Trapped."

It was his last word to her. He swept the girl back against the shelter of

the wall and ran crouching toward the entrance.

A bullet zipped--a second--a third. He stumbled, but did not fall.

Turning, he came back, dodging like a hunted fox. As he passed her,

Melissy saw that his face was ghastly. He ran with a limp.

A second time she heard the cackle of laughter. Guns cracked. Still the

doomed man pushed forward. He went down, struck in the body, but dragged

himself to his feet and staggered on.




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