Again she obeyed, replacing the weapons, standing that second at attention, and flipping them from the holsters so quickly that the eye could scarcely catch the motion. Both draws were peculiar--and peculiarly Last's own. "Good girl," he said with a husk grown suddenly in his voice, "take--three hours--a day. I want t' leave you th' best gun-handler in Lost Valley--because, my girl--you'll--have--to--to--pro----" He ceased, wilting forward in Conford's arms. Then he opened his eyes again for one last smile at the daughter he had loved above all things on earth, save and except the memory of the woman who had given her to him. For once in her life Tharon did not wait his finished speech. She saw the Hand reach out of the shadows and flung herself upon his breast where the blood still seeped and fairly forced the last flutter of life to brighten in him. She kissed his rugged cheek. "Who, Dad," she called into his dulling senses, "tell me who? I'll get him, so help me God!" and she loosed one hand to cross herself, as old Anita had taught her. But the promise was late. None knew whether or not Jim Last heard it, for before the last word was done the breath had ceased in his throat. Another twilight came down upon Lost Valley. The wide ranges lay dim and mysterious, grey and pink and lavendar, as if the hand of a Master Painter had coloured them, as indeed it had. The Rockface at the west was black with shadow for all its rugged miles, the eastern uplands were bathed and aglow with purplish crimson light.