The judge made her a little respectful inclination. "You are Torrance of Cedar's daughter, and everyone knows the kind of grit there is in that family. While I knew the cattle-men would raise a good deal of unpleasantness when I married you, I did it out of friendliness for Larry; but it is my duty to uphold the law, and I can't have your husband's friends and your father's cow-boys making trouble here." "Larry," said the girl tremulously, "we must go on again." Grant's face grew stern. "No," he said. "You shall stay here in spite of them until you feel fit to ride for the railroad." Just then a man came in. "Battersly saw Torrance with the Sheriff and Clavering and quite a band of cow-boys ride by the trail forks an hour ago," he said. "They were heading for Hamlin's, but they'd make this place in two hours when they didn't find Larry there." There was an impressive silence. Hetty shuddered, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable when she laid her hand on her husband's arm. "We must go," she said. "It would be too horrible if you should meet him." "Mrs. Grant is right," said the storekeeper. "We know Torrance of Cedar, and if you stayed here, Larry, you and she might be sorry all your lives. Now, you could, by riding hard, make Canada to-morrow." Grant stifled a groan, and though his face was grim his voice was compassionate as he turned to Hetty. "Are you very tired?" he said gently. "It must be the saddle again." Hetty said nothing, but she pressed his arm, and her eyes shone mistily when they went out together. Half an hour later they rode out of the town, and Grant turned to her when the clustering houses dipped behind a billowy rise, and they were once more alone in the empty prairie, with their faces towards Canada. "I am 'most ashamed to look at you, but you will forgive me, little girl," he said. "There are brighter days before us than your wedding one, and by and by I hope you will not be sorry you have borne so much for me." Hetty's lips quivered a little, but the pride of the cattle-barons shone in her eyes. "I have nothing to forgive and am only very tired," she said. "I shall never be sorry while you are kind to me, and I would have ridden to Canada if I had known that it would have killed me. The one thing I am afraid of is that you and he should meet." They rode on, speaking but seldom as the leagues went by, for Grant had much to think of and Hetty was very weary. Indeed, she swayed unevenly in her saddle, while the long, billowy levels shining in the sunlight rolled back, as it were, interminably to them, and now and then only saved herself from a fall by a clutch at the bridle. There were times when a drowsiness that would scarcely be shaken off crept upon her, and she roused herself with a strenuous effort and a horrible fear at her heart, knowing that if her strength failed her the blood of husband or father might be upon her head.