An hour later, when all the Holding was quiet for the night, drifting to early rest after the day's hard work, the Mistress of Last's, booted, dressed in riding clothes, her fair head covered by a sombrero, her daddy's guns at her hips, crept softly to the gate of El Rey's own corral. She went like a thief, crouching, watching, without a sound, and saddled the big stallion in careful softness. She led him gently out and around toward the cottonwoods, away from the house. When she was well away she put foot to stirrup and went up as the king leaped for his accustomed flight. But Tharon pulled him down. She wanted no thunder on the sounding-board tonight. But soft as she had been, as careful, there was one at the Holding who followed her every act, who went for a horse, too, who saddled Drumfire in silence and who crept down the sounding-board--Billy the faithful. Far down along the plain toward the Black Coulee he let the red roan out, so that the girl, keen of hearing as of sight, caught the following beat of hoofs, stopped, listened, understood and reined El Rey up to wait. And soon out of the shadows cast by the eastern ramparts, where the moon was rising, she saw the rider coming. A quick mist of tears suffused her eyes, a sick feeling gripped her heart. Here was another mixed in the sorry tangle! She had always known vaguely that Billy was one with her, that his heart was the deep heart of her friend. He was the one she always wanted near her in times of stress, it was with him she liked to ride in the Big Shadow when the sun went down behind the Canon Country. But now she did not want him. She had a keen desire to see him safely out of this--this which was to be the end, one way or the other, of the blood-feud between the Stronghold and Last's. Now as he loped up and stopped abreast of her in silence, she reached out a hand and caught his in a close clasp. "I don't want you, Billy, dear," she said miserably, "not because I don't love you, but because I ain't a-goin' to see you shot by Courtrey's gang. This is one time, boy, when I want you to leave me alone, to go back without me." The rider shook his head against the stars. "Couldn't do it, little girl," he said wistfully, "you know I couldn't do it." "Ain't I your mistress, Billy?" asked Tharon sternly. "Ain't I your boss?" "Sure are," said the boy with conviction. "Ain't I always been a good boss to you?" "Best in th' world. Good as Jim Last." "Then," said Tharon sharply, "it's up to you to take my orders. I order you now--go back." The cowboy leaned down suddenly and kissed the hand he held. "I'm at your shoulder, Tharon, dear," he said with simple dignity, "like your shadow. At your foot like the dogs that never forsake th' herds. I couldn't go back an' leave you--not though I died for it tonight.