Brand Blotters

"It's 'Lissie Lee!" a voice cried in astonishment; and another, with a

startled oath, "You're right, Bob!"

The first rider gave his pony the spur, swung it from the trail in a

half-circle which brought it back at the very edge of the ravine, and

blocked the forward pour of terror-stricken sheep. Twice his revolver rang

out. The girl's heart stood still, for the man was Norris, and it seemed

for an instant as if he must be swept over the precipice by the stampede.

The leaders braced themselves to stop, but were slowly pushed forward

toward the edge. One of the other riders had by this time joined the

daring cowpuncher, and together they stemmed the tide. The pressure on the

trail relaxed and the sheep began to mill around and around.

It was many minutes before they were sufficiently quieted to trust upon

the trail again, but at last the men got them safely to the bottom, with

the exception of two or three killed in the descent.

Her responsibility for the safety of the sheep gone, the girl began to

crawl down the dark trail. She could not see a yard in front of her, and

at each step the path seemed to end in a gulf of darkness. She could not

be sure she was on the trail at all, and her nerve was shaken by the

experience through which she had just passed. Presently she stopped and

waited, for the first time in her life definitely and physically afraid.

She stood there trembling, a long, long time it seemed to her, surrounded

by the impenetrable blackness of night.

Then a voice came to her.

"Melissy!"

She answered, and the voice came slowly nearer.

"You're off the trail," it told her presently, just before a human figure

defined itself in the gloom.

"I'm afraid," she sobbed.

A strong hand came from nowhere and caught hers. An arm slipped around her

waist.

"Don't be afraid, little girl. I'll see no harm comes to you," the man

said to her with a quick, fierce tenderness.

The comfort of his support was unspeakable. It stole into her heart like

water to the roots of thirsty plants. To feel her head against his

shoulder, to know he held her tight, meant safety and life. He had told

her not to be afraid, and she was so no longer.

"You shot at me," she murmured in reproach.

"I didn't know. We thought it was Bellamy's herd. But it's true, God

forgive me! I did."