Gale looked steadily at her. "You promised to marry me," he muttered truculently. "I'll find a way to make you keep your word." A loud knocking interrupted him, and, without waiting to be admitted, Pardaloe, the cowboy, opened the front door and stalked boldly in from the hall. If the situation in the room surprised him he gave no evidence of it. And as he walked in Nan disappeared. Pardaloe was drenched with rain, and, taking off his hat as he crossed the room to the fire, he shook it hard into the blazing wood. "What do you want, Pardaloe?" snapped Duke. Pardaloe shook his hat once more and turned a few steps so that he stood between the uncurtained window and the light. "The creek's up," he said to Duke in his peculiarly slow, steady tone. "Some of Satt's boys are trying to get the cattle out of the lower corral." He fingered his hat, looked first at Duke, then at Gale, then at de Spain. "Guess they'll need a little help, so I asked Sassoon to come over--" Pardaloe jerked his head indicatively toward the front. "He's outside with some of the boys now." "Tell Sassoon to come in here!" thundered Gale. De Spain's left arm shot out. "Hold on, Pardaloe; pull down that curtain behind you!" "Don't touch that curtain, Pardaloe!" shouted Gale Morgan. "Pardaloe," said de Spain, his left arm pointing menacingly and walking instantly toward him, "pull that curtain or pull your gun, quick." At that moment Nan, in hat and coat, reappeared in the archway behind de Spain. Pardaloe jerked down the curtain and started for the door. De Spain had backed up again. "Stop, Pardaloe," he called. "My men are outside that door. Stand where you are," he ordered, still enforcing his commands with his right hand covering the holster at his hip. "I leave this room first. Nan, are you ready?" he asked, without looking at her. "Yes." Her uncle's face whitened. "Don't leave this house to-night, Nan," he said menacingly. "You've forced me to, Uncle Duke." "Don't leave this house to-night." "I can't protect myself in it." "Don't leave this house--most of all, with that man!" He pointed at de Spain with a frenzy of hatred. Without answering, the two were retreating into the semidarkness of the dining-room. "Nan," came her uncle's voice, hoarse with feeling, "you're saying good-by to me forever." "No, uncle," she cried. "I am only doing what I have to do." "I tell you I don't want to drive you from this roof, girl." A rush of wind from an opening door was the only answer from the dark dining-room. The two Morgans started forward together. The sudden gust sucked the flame of the living-room lamp up into the chimney and after a brief, sharp struggle extinguished it. In the confusion it was a moment before a match could be found. When the lamp was relighted the Morgans ran into the dining-room. The wind and rain poured in through the open north door. But the room was empty.