One ear he canted back to the pain-roughened voice which spoke at his ear. The voice was growing weaker and weaker, just as the grip of the legs was decreasing, and the hands were tangled less firmly in his mane, but now the bright-colored buildings of the ranch appeared through the trees. They were passing between the deadly rows of barbed wire with far-off mutter of the pursuing horses beating at his ear and telling him that all escape was cut off. Yet still the man held him to the way through a mingling of trails thick with the scents of man, of man-ridden horses. The burden on his back now slipped from side to side at every reach of his springy gallop. They came in sight of the ranch house itself. The failing voice rose for one instant into a hoarse cry of joy. Far behind, rose a triumphant echo of shouting. Yes, the trap was closed, and his only protection from the men riding behind was this half-living creature on his back. Out from the arched entrance to the patio ran a girl. She started back against the 'dobe wall of the house and threw up one hand as though a miracle had flashed across her vision. Alcatraz brought his canter to a trot that shook the loose body on his back, and then he was walking reluctantly forward, for towards the girl the rider was directing him against all his own power of reason. She was crying out, now, in a shrill voice, and presently through the shadowy arch swung the figure of a big man on crutches, who shouted even as the girl had shouted. Oliver Jordan, reading through the lines of his foreman's letter, had returned to find out what was going wrong, and from his daughter's tale he had learned more than enough. Trembling at the nearness of these two human beings, but driven on by the faint voice, and the guiding hands, Alcatraz passed shuddering under the very arch of the patio entrance and so found himself once more--and forever--surrendered into the power of men! But the weak figure on his back had relaxed, and was sliding down. He saw the gate closing the patio swing to. He saw the girl run with a cry and receive the bleeding body of Red Perris into her arms. He saw the man on crutches swing towards them, exclaiming "--without even a bridle! Marianne, he must have hypnotized that hoss!" "Oh, Dad," the girl wailed, "if he dies--if he dies----" The eyes of Perris, where he lay on the flagging, opened wearily. "I'll live--I can't die! But Alcatraz ... keep him from butcher Hervey ... keep him safe...." Then his gaze fixed on the face of Oliver Jordan and his eyes widened in amazement. "My father," she said, as she cut away the shirt to get at the wound. "Him!" muttered Perris. "Partner," said Oliver Jordan, wavering above the wounded man on his crutches, "what's done is done." "Ay," said Perris, smiling weakly, "if you're her father that trail is sure ended. Marianne--get hold of my hand--I'm going out again ... keep Alcatraz safe...." His eyes closed in a faint.