“That goes--to Arline. _Don't_ put it in there!” Val's laughter was not far from hysteria. Kent was pretending to stuff the pink cushion into her hand bag. “Better take it; you'll--” The front door was pushed violently open and Manley almost fell into the room. Val gave a little, inarticulate cry and shrank back against the wall before she could recover herself. They had for the moment forgotten Manley, and all he stood for in the way of heartbreak. A strange-looking Manley he was, with his white face and staring, bloodshot eyes, and the cruel, animal lines around his mouth. Hardly recognizable to one who had not seen him since three or four years before, he would have been. He stopped short just over the threshold, and glanced suspiciously from one to the other before he came farther into the room. “Dig up some grub, Val--in a bag, so I can carry it on horseback,” he commanded. “And a blanket--where did you put those rifle cartridges?” He hurried across the room to where his rifle and belt hung upon the wall, just over the little, homemade bookcase. “I had a couple of boxes--where are they?” He snatched down the rifle, took the belt, and began buckling it around him with fumbling fingers. Mechanically Val reached upon a higher shelf and got him the two boxes of shells. Her eyes were fixed curiously upon his face. “What has happened?” she asked him as he tore open a box and began pushing the shells, one by one, into his belt. “Fred De Garmo--he tried to arrest me--in town--I shot him dead,” He glanced furtively at Kent. “Can I take your horse, Kent? I want to get across the river before--” “You shot--Fred--” Val was staring at him stupidly. He whirled savagely toward her. “Yes, and I'd shoot any man that walked up and tried to take me. He was a fool if he thought all he had to do was crook his finger and say 'Come along.' It was over those calves--and I'd say you had a hand in it, if I hadn't found that calf, and saw how you burned out the brand before you turned it loose. You might have told me--I wouldn't have--” He shifted his gaze toward Kent. “The hell of it is, the sheriff happened to be in town for something; he's back a couple of miles--for God's sake, move! And get that flour and bacon, and some matches. I've got to get across the river. I can shake 'em off, on the other side. Hurry, Val!” She went out into the kitchen, and they heard her moving about, collecting the things he needed.