“He’s falling more and more into Cattle Kate’s power—and all for nothing. He knows it, but seems helpless. I’ve seen the like before. She’s a bad woman to tie to.” “She’s handsome—that’s one thing sure.” “Yes. Her type is always handsome. But I’m surprised to hear you say so.” “Why?” asked the girl wonderingly. “Because most women hate to admit beauty in another, and of all people on Nameless you have the least reason to see anything attractive in her.” Nance sighed again, thinking of her lost corn field and of her present appalling poverty. “As near as I’ll let myself come to hate,” she said, “I do hate her. I’ve got to fight it mighty hard. You know how hard it is to fight that way—inside your own soul.” “Hardest battle-ground we ever stand on,” said Selwood with conviction. “I’ve had some skirmishes there myself—and I can’t say I always came off victor.” “You can’t, sometimes, without a lot of prayer,” returned Nance soberly, “I’ve pretty near worn out my knees on the job.” Selwood wanted to laugh at her naive earnestness, but caught himself in time. They rode for a time in silence, Nance and Buckskin ahead, the sheriff following on his lean bay horse. Presently Nance turned with a hand on her pony’s rump and looked at him speculatively. “You sort of lay up something to Cattle Kate about this rustling, don’t you?” she asked. He nodded. “I’ve watched her for months, but can’t get anything on her—not anything tangible.” “I was in Little Blue Cañon the other day,” said Nance, “and saw Sud Provine pass its mouth in Blue Stone driving a red steer north. I’ve wondered a lot where he could have been taking it.” “North in Blue Stone? That’s odd. There isn’t enough feed in that cañon to graze a calf two days.” “And what’s at its head?” asked Nance, “I’ve never been clear up.” “Blue Stone heads high in the Deep Heart hills,” said the sheriff, “but about eight miles up from its mouth on Nameless its right wall falls abruptly away for a distance of a couple of miles and there one can go out on the open plain that stretches over toward the Sawtooth Range and leads out to Marston and the railroad. There’s some bunch grass there, but mighty little water. Nothing but the stream in the cañon itself to come back to. And cattle driven so far away from the home range would be a poor risk, it seems to me, for Sky Line.” “Well—I wondered about it. Thought I’d tell you any way.” “I’m glad you did. I shall remember it.” At the homestead Nance led Selwood to the corn field’s lower gate and left him. “Go over it if you want,” she said, “and I’ll be out in a minute or so.” At the cabin she told Sonny to go into her room and stay until she came for him. “I feel guilty,” she thought, “for I can trust the sheriff, but Brand asked me to keep him hidden. I’ve got to be true to my promise.” “You ask the sheriff to supper,” said Mrs. Allison, “I’ll kill a fryer an’ make some biscuits.”