“Glad I came. I can help nurse him.” He cut short a high cackle of laughter to ask a question. “What’s yore gun for, dearie? You wouldn’t throw it on poor Jake Prowers, would you?” He was as deadly as dynamite, she thought, more treacherous than a rattlesnake. She wanted to cry out her horror at him. To see him sitting there, humped up like a spider, not three feet from the man he had tried to murder, filled her with repulsion. There was more in her feeling than that; a growing paralysis of terror lest he might reach out and in a flash complete the homicide he had attempted. She tried to reason this away. He dared not do it, with her here as a witness, with two men drawing closer every minute. Don Black had told her that he wouldn’t strike in the open, and the range rider had known him more years than she had lived. But the doubt remained. She did not know what he would do. Since she did not live in the same world as he, it was not possible for her to follow his thought processes. Then, with no previous intimation that his delirium had dropped from him, the wounded man startled Betty by asking a rational question. “Did you come to see how good a job you’d done?” he said quietly to Prowers. The cowman shook his head, still with the Satanic grin. “No job of mine, son. I’m thorough.” “Your orders, but maybe not your hand,” Hollister insisted feebly. Betty moved into his line of vision, and to his startled brain the motion of her was like sweet unearthly music. He looked silently at her for a long moment. “Am I still out of my head?” he asked. “It’s not really you, is it?” “Yes,” she said, very gently. “You mustn’t talk.” “In Black’s cabin, aren’t we?” “Yes.” “Shot through the window, Black told me. Remember, if I don’t get well, it was this man or Cig that did it.” “I’ll remember,” she promised. “But you’re going to get well. Don’t talk, please.” “Just one thing. What are you doing here?” “I came to look after you. Now that’s all--please.” He said no more, in words. But the eyes of sick men are like those of children. They tell the truth. From them is stripped the veil woven by time and the complexities of life. Sounds of voices on the hillside drifted to the cabin. Betty’s heart leaped joyfully. Friends were at hand. It was too late now for Prowers to do any harm even if it was in his mind. The voices approached the cabin. The girl recognized that of Merrick, strong and dominant and just a little heavy. She heard Black’s drawling answer, without being able to distinguish the words. The door opened. Four men came into the room. The two who brought up the rear were Dr. Rayburn and Lon Forbes. “Oh, Lon!” Betty cried, and went to him with a rush. “I’m awf’ly glad you came.” She clung to him, trembling, a sob in her throat. The rawboned foreman patted her shoulder with a touch of embarrassment. “There--there, honey, ’s all right. Why didn’t you wait for old Lon instead o’ hoppin’ away like you done?”