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But she gained the shelf, gasping, hot of cheek, glad of eye, with her hand in Venters's. Here they rested. The beautiful valley glittered below with its millions of wind-turned leaves bright-faced in the sun, and the mighty bridge towered heavenward, crowned with blue sky. Bess, however, never rested for long.
Tull's men appeared under the cottonwoods and led a young man out into the lane. His ragged clothes were those of an outcast. But he stood tall and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his bound arms rippling and a blue flame of defiance in the gaze he bent on Tull. For the first time Jane Withersteen felt Venters's real spirit.
"Son cool down," returned Lassiter, in a voice he might have used to a child. But the grip with which he tore away Venters's grasping hands was that of a giant. "Listen you fool boy! Jane's sized up the situation. The burros'll do for us. Well sneak along an' hide. I'll take your dogs an' your rifle. Why, it's the trick.
To Venters's question, "What were you to Oldring?" she had answered with scarlet shame and drooping head. "What do I care who she is or what she was!" he cried, passionately. And he knew it was not his old self speaking. It was this softer, gentler man who had awakened to new thoughts in the quiet valley.
A wind blew the scent of sage in his face. The first early blackness of night passed with the brightening of the stars. Somewhere back on his trail a coyote yelped, splitting the dead silence. Venters's faculties seemed singularly acute. He lifted the girl again and pressed on. The valley better traveling than the canyon. It was lighter, freer of sage, and there were no rocks.
Lassiter looked at the grave and then out into space. At that moment he seemed a figure of bronze. Jane touched Venters's arm and led him back to the horses. "Bern!" cried Jane, when they were out of hearing. "Suppose Lassiter were Milly's husband the father of that little girl lost so long ago!" "It might be, Jane. Let us ride on. If he wants to see us again he'll come."
"I reckon Jane would be easier. First names are always handy for me." "Well, use mine, then. Lassiter, I'm glad to see you. I'm in trouble." Then she told him of Judkins's return, of the driving of the red herd, of Venters's departure on Wrangle, and the calling-in of her riders. "'Pears to me you're some smilin' an' pretty for a woman with so much trouble," he remarked. "Lassiter!
Venters seemed to see the expanse before him as a vast, sheeted, purple plain sliding under him. Black Star moved in it as a blur. The rider, Jerry Card, appeared a mere dot bobbing dimly. Wrangle thundered on on on! Venters felt the increase in quivering, straining shock after every leap. Flecks of foam flew into Venters's eyes, burning him, making him see all the sage as red.
No time in the long period of fiery moments and sudden shocks had Jane Withersteen ever beheld Lassiter as calm and serene and cool as then. "Jane had gloom enough without my addin' to it by shootin' up the village," he said. As strange as Lassiter's coolness was Venters's curious, intent scrutiny of them both, and under it Jane felt a flaming tide wave from bosom to temples.
Suddenly it dropped, and he seemed to glide aside, to pass out of Venters's sight. Next he saw many horses with bridles down all clean-limbed, dark bays or blacks rustlers' horses! Loud voices and boisterous laughter, rattle of dice and scrape of chair and clink of gold, burst in mingled din from an open doorway. He stepped inside.
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