Phyllis, having arranged the mail and delivered most of it, had left the store in charge of the clerk and retired to her private den, a cool room finished in restful tints at the northeast corner of the house. She was sitting by a window reading a magazine, when there came a knock. Her "Come in" disclosed 'Rastus and the whites of his rolling eyes. She nodded and smiled. "What can I do for you, George Washington Abraham Lincoln Randolph?" "I done come to tell you somepin I heerd whilst I was asleep in de live oak at the corral." "Something you dreamed. It is very good of you, George Wash----" "Now, don't you call me all dat again, Miss Phyl. And I didn't dream it nerrer. I woke up and heerd it. Mr. Jim Yeager and dat nester they call Keller wuz a-talkin', and Mr. Jim he allowed dat Keller wuz a rustler, and den Keller he allowed dat Mr. Phil wuz de rustler." "What!" The girl had sprung to her feet, amazed, her dark eyes blazing indignation. "Tha's what he said. He went on to tell how he done found a knife by the dead cow, an' 'twuz yore knife, an' you done loan it to Mr. Phil." "He said that!" She was a creature transformed by passion. The hot blood of Southern ancestors raced through her veins clamorously. She wanted to strike down this man, to annihilate him and the cowardly lie he had given to shield himself. And pat to her need came the very person she could best use for her instrument. Healy stood surprised in the doorway, confronted by the slender young amazon. The storm of passion in the eyes, the underlying flush in the dusky cheeks, indicated a new mood in his experience of this young woman of many moods. "Come in and shut the door," she ordered. Then, "Tell him, 'Rastus." The boy, all smiles gone now, repeated his story, and was excused. "What do you think of that, Brill?" the girl demanded, after the door had closed on him. The stockman's eyes had grown hard. "I think Keller's covering his own tracks. Of course we've got no direct proof, but----" "We have," she broke in. "I can't see it. According to Jim Yeager----" "Jim lied. I asked him to." "You--what?" "I asked him to say that this man had come there to work for him. Jim was not to blame." "But--why?" She threw out a gesture of self-contempt. "Why did I do it? I don't know. Because he was wounded, I suppose." "Wounded! Then I did hit him?" "Yes. In the arm--a flesh wound. I met him riding through the mesquite. After I had tied up his wound, I took him to Jim's." His eyes narrowed slightly. "So you tied up his wound?" "Yes," she answered defiantly, her head up. "That tender heart of yours," he murmured, with almost a sneer. "Yes. I'm a fool." He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well." "And he pays me back by trying to throw it on Phil. Hunt him down, Brill. Bring him to me. I'll tell all I know against him," she cried vindictively. "I'll get him, Phyl," he promised, and the sound of his laughter was not pleasant. "I'll get him for you, or find out why."