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"Boys," she said suddenly, smiling to herself, "did you ever know a man like my dad?" There was a movement among the lounging riders, a shifting of position, a striking of cigarette ash. "No, sir," said Billy promptly, "there hain't another man's good with a gun as him, not anywhere's in Lost Valley. Not even Buck Courtrey himself. I'd back Jim Last against him, even, in fair-draw. Why?"
Then she gathered herself to turn her head across her leaning shoulder and look back. As her eyes swept into focus behind, the laughter slipped off her lips as if wiped by an invisible hand. There, the same distance away as when they started, rode Courtrey! No farther away! Bolt, shining in the sun, was keeping pace with El Rey!
In the straight-backed chair they gave her Ellen sat like a statue, sweet and still, a thing so obviously good that it seemed even Courtrey himself must weaken to behold her. But not Courtrey.
She sent Conford off to post her placard and herself went rummaging among the possibilities which her defy had placed before her. She knew that Courtrey would be coldly furious. He had lived his life as suited him, had taken what and where he listed, by fair means or foul, and though every soul in the Valley knew him and his methods, none had spoken the convicting word.
They knew that they were in plain sight of the Stronghold and expected every moment to see Courtrey and a dozen riders come boiling out. Those cowboys who had been in charge of the herd, sat where they were, without a move. Out of the bright mass the settlers cut first the ten head of steers, as nearly as possible all white, to take the place of Dixon's band.
Miserably Kenset looked at this slip of a girl. She was strange to him, unfathomable. There were depths beneath the changing blue eyes which appalled him. How would he feel toward her when the thing was done when she had killed Courtrey? But she must not be allowed to do it. Not though it took his life. If she was pledged to this thing, he was no less pledged to its prevention.
I trust th' Indians, but there ain't no Indian livin' can meet Courtrey's white renegades in courage an' wits. Then we'll start right in an' dig a well th' first well ever dug on th' open range in this man's land." "Good Lord, Tharon!" said Conford, "A well!" "Yes. Th' livin' water holes have been th' pride of th' Valley, I know, but we'll fix this well of ours so's even Courtrey will respect it."
Then, without a word to his henchmen, a single look of farewell, Buck Courtrey struck the Ironwood, and was gone back along the little street. His men whirled after him, but strange turn of destiny, they swung directly north away from him, for he was turning south at the town's edge. "For the Wall!" breathed Lola, her face like milk, one hand on her glittering breast. "He goes for below!"
"Miss Last," said Kenset, thrilling at his daring, "why must this law dwell in these?" and he reached a hand to tap the gun on her lap. "Why? That very question'd show your ignorance to any Lost Valley man. Because it's all there is. You've seen Courtrey. You've seen Steptoe Service. Can't you judge from them?" "Surely, so far as they two go. A bad man and a bad sheriff.
The thunder of El Rey's beating hoofs was like the sound of the cataracts when the cañons shot their freshets from the Rockface. The note of his speed was rising rising rising. The blood began to pound in her temples with pride and exultation. She saw the distance narrowing just the smallest bit between her and Courtrey. Just the smallest trifle, indeed, but narrowing.
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