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A new regime was ushered in and she who had been its sponsor was not there to see it. When the hour of Change was striking for Corvan and all Lost Valley, Tharon Last, who had set it to strike, was scaling False Ridge in the Cañon Country. Grim, ash-pale with effort, her blue eyes shining, she climbed the Secret Way that few had ever found.
"Here's your man!" said Kenset softly, rising excitedly on his elbow. "He's coming! And God grant that there is no bloodshed!" All of Corvan, so long meek and quiet under Courtrey's foot, moved dramatically back to give him room to come thundering down to his accounting. In a few seconds he would be encompassed by his enemies.
It lay level at the mouth of the passing cut, was never filled higher. Starting at dusk from Corvan, Pete reached his destination around two o'clock, filled his sacks, tied them on his mules and started down, coming out of the Rockface in time to meet the dawn that quivered on the eastern ramparts.
"I heard in Corvan yesterday that John Dement has rode th' range continuous since he finished brandin' his new herd to tell th' settlers about it." "Good," said Tharon, "couldn't be better. There's got to be a change in Lost Valley sooner or later. Might as well be sooner." And with that thought the girl let her quick mind sweep out to take in the future.
Kenset frowned and looked down along the green range. He thought of the unpainted pine building in Corvan which was the Court House. A strange personnel, truly, to invest it with authortity! "I see," he said briefly, "but there must be some way out. This is not the right way, the way that must come and last." Tharon's lips drew into the thin line that made them like her father's.
What was this matter of "grazing permits" of which he had spoken at the Stronghold? Permits? They had grazed their cattle where and when they chose and could from their earliest memory. They asked no leave from Government. When Kenset rode into Corvan he was treated with exaggerated politeness by those with whom he had to deal, with utter unconsciousness by all the rest.
The Rockface at the west was black with shadow for all its rugged miles, the eastern uplands were bathed and aglow with purplish crimson light. In Corvan lights twinkled all up and down the one main street. Horses were tied at the hitch-racks and among them were the Ironwoods from Courtrey's Stronghold, beautiful big creatures, blood-bay, black-pointed, noticeable in any bunch.
"He's somethin' official, all right, I make no doubt, Tharon," he said when he had listened attentively, "but what or who I don't know. I heard from Dixon about him comin' into Corvan that day, an' that he had rode far. No one knows his business, or what he's in Lost Valley for. He's some mysterious."
"Why are you doin' this?" she asked. "Why are you mixin' up in our troubles? Why don't you go back to your cabin an' your pictures an' books an' things, an' let us work out our own affairs?" Kenset lifted a quick hand, dropped it again. "God knows!" he said. "Let's go." And he wheeled his horse and started for Corvan, the others falling into line at his side.
It was another noon in Lost Valley. The summer sun sailed the azure skies in majesty. Little soft winds from the south wimpled the grass of the rolling ranges, shook all the leaves of the poplars. Down the face of the Wall the Vestal's Veil shimmered and shone like a million miles of lace. At Corvan wild excitement ruled.
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