Even when she did not look at him, she was acutely conscious of his presence. Without turning her head she saw the line of the razor stroke where the golden down ceased on his tanned cheek, was aware of the gallant set of the fine head on strong shoulders. Oh, it was good to be near him, to know that out of all the millions of men in the world she had found her mate. There was in her a strange, a primitive, instinct to accept his leadership, a desire to be subject to his wishes and commands. She smiled. This was not like her. Perhaps it was a merely temporary aberration. “Are we really all alike?” she asked herself, trying to understand this love-complex that already was changing her point of view. “We want to be free, want to express ourselves. We’re thinking of nothing else. And then--enter a man. Our house of cards comes toppling down, and we don’t care a bit. Sometimes, of course, he isn’t the right man. Then--tragedy, I suppose.” The young philosopher, looking at her hero, was very sure he was the right man. Her certainty went beyond evidence, beyond faith. Merrick’s raft reached them about noon. He was admirable in the rôle of rescuer. Efficiency showed in everything he did, even to the sandwiches, and coffee in a thermos bottle, which he had not forgotten to bring. “Where’s Dad?” asked Betty, between bites. “He and Forbes were at First View last night.” “Does he know we’re safe?” “Yes. He’s headed for home now.” Within the hour they were back at the Diamond Bar K. Clint drove up a few minutes later, Forbes beside him. The cattleman took his children in his arms and held them close. He could not talk without breaking down. He dared not put his feeling into words. They had come back to him from the dead--these two. Inside of him a river of unshed tears flowed. Betty left him making over Ruth and slipped into the next room where some one was waiting for her. Lon Forbes was telling Hollister some news. “... Jake’s men found ’em there dead, not three feet apart. Both guns empty. Four bullets in Jake’s body, five in Don’s--an’ most any one of ’em a fatal wound. They were that game they wouldn’t quit. It takes a heap o’ killin’ to finish an old-timer, I’ll say.” Tremulously, Betty moved forward. “Who?” she asked. Lon told her. “I’m sorry about Black, but Jake sure had it comin’,” he finished. The foreman passed into the other room to tell Clint the news. In a hushed voice Betty talked the tragedy over with Tug. The swiftness with which Nemesis had overtaken and obliterated Prowers was appalling to her. She had a momentary vision, vivid and amazingly sure, of God in the shadows passing judgment on the sins of men. It was as though they were back in the days of the old Hebrew prophets when the hand of the Lord stretched out and laid itself upon wicked men for their punishment when the measure of their time was full.