“Put her in the bed there,” he commanded, indicating an adjoining room. He stooped to assist in lifting her; but the faintness was passing, and she showed that she was still able to assist herself. “Yes, put me in the bed,” she panted. They helped her to the bed, Davison following with tottering steps, trying to aid. Mary shook the pillow into shape and placed it under her head. Sibyl observed her and put up her gloved hand to touch Mary’s hair. “You are here, dear; I—I am so glad!” “Where is Clayton?” said Davison, turning about. “He is needed.” A cowboy came running into the house to report the stampede of the cattle. “Let them go,” Davison cried; “you ride at once for Doctor Clayton. Tell him to come immediately.” Pearl Harkness had hurried into the kitchen, thinking of hot-water bags. Mary stared into Sibyl’s face and inanely patted the pillow tucked under her head. Lucy was wiping away the blood that oozed from between Sibyl’s lips. “Come nearer, dear,” said Sibyl in a weak voice, speaking to Mary. “Come nearer, dear; I want you to kiss me and forgive me. I—I—” Her ghastly features became more pinched and ghastly; her hand wavered toward Mary’s face. Mary took it and placed it against her warm, tear-wet cheek, in the old way. Sibyl stared at her. “I—I can’t see you, dear; but you have hold of my hand. The room must be growing dark, or—or is it my eyes? The windows haven’t been closed, have they?” “The windows are open,” said Mary; “wide open.” Sibyl still stared at her, while Pearl bustled into the room with cloths and a water bottle. “It—it is growing dark to me. I’m dying, and I know it. My—my horse fell, and—and Clayton was with me; he is out there yet—where—where the cattle are.” She made another effort to see. “Hold—hold my hand tight, Mary; and—and please kiss me, won’t you? Hold my hand tight! I loved you, Mary—I loved you! Oh, I can’t see you—I can’t see you at all! Kiss me, and forgive me. I don’t want to go into the dark! I always loved the light—the light!” As Mary stooped with that forgiving kiss, Sibyl touched her hair with affection. “I forgive you everything,” said Mary. “You won’t believe that I truly loved you, Mary, but I did; always remember that I did. Oh, I want the light—the light—I can’t see you! I’m afraid there isn’t any light—beyond! I could bear the fires of hell if they but gave light and I could live on. But I’m afraid—afraid, Mary, that—that there isn’t anything beyond; and that I shall never see you again!” She put up her hands, gasping for breath. “I’ve been a wicked woman, but I loved you, Mary; oh, I loved you; and I tried to shield you all I could! I oughtn’t to have taken you to Denver, but I wanted you, and I was selfish. Oh, this darkness! Open the windows; I’m—I’m afraid of the darkness! Open the—windows; I must—must have light!” But the light did not return. Clayton’s body, mangled beyond recognition, was found near that of the horse he had mercifully slain. CHAPTER XXI