Bud sprang forward to lift her up, but already the weakness was passing and she put him aside, getting to her feet. She forgot the child at her knee. “His enemies——” she was muttering to herself, “and mine—they got him—at last—just as they tried to get me—and Jehoshaphat rose and went against his enemies—and the Lord was with him—I—I—Bud, give me that gun.” She took the rifle out of his hands with a savage motion and went from the cabin, swaying like a drunkard. At the corner of the stable she came face to face with Fair, who was just coming up from the river on Diamond. She stopped and stared at him like one in a daze. “You?” she said presently. “You—Brand?” The man saw at once that there was something gravely wrong and dismounted quickly. He came forward and laid a hand on hers where it grasped the weapon. “Sure—my dear,” he said carefully, “don’t look so, Nance—I’m all right. Let me have this,” and took the gun away. He put his right arm gently around her and looked over her head at her brother. “Tell me,” his eyes commanded. “I just told her what I heard this morning,” said Bud, “that a man was shot by rustlers and that it was Smith—you. She said something about one of the Bible men who went out and slew his enemies—and she was starting for Sky Line, I think.” There was no need to ask more, for Nance had covered her face with her shaking hands and bending forward on Fair’s breast was weeping terribly. The man drew her close and held her, and the dark eyes that gazed down at her shining head with its neat braids, were grave and very tender. At last he said quietly, “It was our friend, Sheriff Selwood, but he is not dead. He’s at his ranch, but he cannot talk—and no one knows who shot him. Sky Line drove down this morning—all regular and humdrum. McKane says Selwood knows—that he tried to tell him who the rustlers of Nameless are, but that he could not. When he comes round there’ll be something doing in this neck of the woods, or I miss my guess. Come, Nance—aren’t you going to invite me to dinner? I’ve got four prime grey squirrels in my saddle-bags, and my canteen’s full of honey—found a bee tree down the river.” And with the gentle tact of deep understanding and something more, Fair drew Nance back from the edge of tragedy to the safe ground of the commonplace. She straightened up, wiped her hands down across her cheeks and looked at him with eyes in which the tears still glistened. “I thought,” she said unsteadily, “that Kate Cathrew had had you shot.” “She’ll have to get up earlier than I do if she pulls that trick,” he laughed, “I’ve been too long on guard.” * * * * * Two days later Nameless was ringing with the news of the raid and Bossick was grim and silent. When the Sky Line riders came back from their drive they rattled into Cordova for the mail and stood on the porch.