In a few moments, from the crest of the ridge, they made out the two running forms on the road below. Blenham was still frantically beating his horse and Temple's. Terry's horn blared; her car leaped; and Blenham, cursing loudly, jerked his horse back on its haunches and well out of the road. With wheels locked, Terry slid to a standstill. "Pile in, dad," she said coolly, ignoring Blenham. "Steve Packard and I will take you into Red Creek. Packard is ready to make you a better proposition than Blenham's. Turn your horse loose; he'll go home, and pile in with us." "He'll do nothing of the kind!" shouted Blenham, his voice husky with his fury. "Just you try that on Temple, an'-- He'll do nothing of the kind," he concluded heavily, his mien eloquent of threat. "We know you think you've got some kind of a strangle-hold on him, Blenham," cut in Terry crisply. "But even if you have, dad is a white man and--dad! What is the matter?" Temple slipped from his saddle and stood shaking visibly, his face dead white, his eyes staring. Even in the moonlight they could all see the big drops of sweat on his forehead, glistening as they trickled down. He put out his hand to support himself by gripping at his saddle, missed blindly, staggered, and began slowly collapsing where he stood as though his bones were little by little melting within him. Blenham laughed harshly. "Drunker'n a boiled owl," he grunted. "But jus' the same sober enough to know----" "Dad!" cried Terry a second time, out in the road beside him now, her arms belting his slacking body. "It isn't just that. You----" "Sick," moaned Temple weakly. "God knows--he's been hounding me to death--I don't know--I wanted to stop, to rest back there but--I'm afraid that----" He broke off panting. Steve jumped out and slipped his own arms about the wilting form. "Let me get him into the car," he said gently. And when he had lifted Temple and placed him in the seat he added quietly: "You'd better hurry on I think. Get a doctor for him. I'll follow on his horse." Terry flashed him a look of gratitude, took her place at the wheel and started down grade. Her father at her side continued to settle in his place as long as Steve kept him in sight. "Well?" growled Blenham, his voice ugly and baffled and throaty with his rage. "You butt in again, do you?" Steve swung up into the saddle just now vacated by Temple. "Yes," he retorted coolly. "And I'm in to stay, too, if you want to know, Blenham. To the finish." With only the width of a narrow road between them they stared at each other. Then Blenham jeered: "Oho! It's the skirt, huh? Stuck on her yourself, are you?" Steve frowned, but met his piercing look with level contempt. "Your language is inelegant, friend Blenham," he said slowly. "Like yourself it is better withdrawn from public notice. As to your meaning--why, by thunder, I half believe you are right! And I hadn't thought of it!"