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But, Ellen Jorth screamed piercingly and snatched her rifle from its resting place and, cocking it, she held it forward and low. Her scream and his uttered name stiffened him. "Y'u will spare Jean Isbel!" she rang out. "Drop that gun-drop it!" "Shore, Ellen.... Easy now. Remember your temper.... I'll let Isbel off," he panted, huskily, and all his body sank quiveringly to a crouch.
The dark form of the rustler slipped out of sight over the embankment. "Better go slow an' careful," warned Greaves. "An' only go close enough to call Somers.... Mebbe thet damn half-breed Isbel is comin' some Injun on us." Jean heard the soft swish of footsteps through wet grass. Then all was still.
And he began to circle to the northwest, back toward the deep canyon where Blaisdell and Bill Isbel had reached the end of their trails. Queen had evidently left his comrades, had lone-handed it in his last fight, but was now trying to get back to them. Somewhere in these wild, deep forest brakes the rest of the Jorth faction had found a hiding place. Jean let Queen lead him there.
He shook his dark head and his broad hand went to his breast. "To think I fell in love with such as you!" he exclaimed, and his other hand swept out in a tragic gesture of helpless pathos and impotence. The hell Isbel had hinted at now possessed Ellen body, mind, and soul. Disgraced, scorned by an Isbel! Yet loved by him!
Then Blue ran out bad hurt.... Both of them died in Meeker's yard." "An' so Jean Isbel has not killed a Jorth!" said Ellen, in strange, deep voice. "No," replied Isbel, earnestly. "I reckon this feud was hardest on Jean. He never lived heah.... An' my sister Ann said he got sweet on y'u.... Now did he?" Slow, stinging tears filled Ellen's eyes, and her head sank low and lower.
Blue was a man of deeds rather than words, and so much strong speech from him, whom everybody knew to be remarkably reliable and keen, made a profound impression upon most of the Isbel faction. But, to Jean's surprise, his father did not rave. It was Blaisdell who supplied the rage and invective. Bill Isbel, also, was strangely indifferent to this new element in the condition of cattle dealing.
He must never have a chance to draw it. "Ahuh! So y'u wish Jean Isbel would hop in heah, do y'u?" queried Colter. "Wal, if I had any pity on y'u, that's done for it." A sweep of his long arm, so swift Ellen had no time to move, brought his hand in clutching contact with her. And the force of it flung her half across the cabin room, leaving the sleeve of her blouse in his grasp.
"'All right. You're Jorth's backers. Have any of you a word to say in Ellen Jorth's defense? I tell you the Mexican lied. Believin' me or not doesn't matter. But this vile-mouthed Bruce hinted against thet girl's honor. "Ag'in some of the men laughed, but not so noisy, an' there was a nervous shufflin' of feet. Isbel looked sort of queer. His neck had a bulge round his collar.
Revenge! An eye for an eye! A life for a life! But she could not kill Jean Isbel. Woman's love could turn to hate, but not the love of Ellen Jorth.
He was alive, breathin' his last.... He says, 'That half-breed Isbel knifed us while we slept! ... The winder shutter was open. I seen where Jean Isbel had come in an' gone out. I seen his moccasin tracks in the dirt outside an' I seen where he'd stepped in Jackson's blood an' tracked it to the winder.
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