All eyes now centered on Dorn and Glidden. Lenore, seeing clearly for the first time, suffered a strange, hot paroxysm of emotion never before experienced by her. It left her weak. It seemed to stultify the cry that had been trying to escape her. She wanted to scream that Dorn must not kill the man. Yet there was a ferocity in her that froze the cry. Glidden's coat and blouse were half torn off; blood covered him; he strained and flung himself weakly in that iron clutch. He was beaten and bent back. His tongue hung out, bloody, fluttering with strangled cries. A ghastly face, appalling in its fear of death! Lenore broke her mute spell of mingled horror and passion. "For God's sake, don't let Dorn kill him!" she implored. "Why not?" muttered Anderson. "That's Glidden. He killed Dorn's father--burned his wheat--ruined him!" "Dad--for _my_--sake!" she cried brokenly. "Jake, stop him!" yelled Anderson. "Pull him off!" As Lenore saw it, with eyes again half failing her, Jake could not separate Dorn from his victim. "Leggo, Dorn!" he yelled. "You're cheatin' the gallows!...Hey, Bill, he's a bull!... Help, hyar--quick!" Lenore did not see the resulting conflict, but she could tell by something that swayed the crowd when Glidden had been freed. "Hold up this outfit!" yelled Anderson to his men. "Come on, Jake, drag him along." Jake appeared, leading the disheveled and wild-eyed Dorn. "Son, you did my heart good, but there was some around here who didn't want you to spill blood. An' that's well. For I am seein' red....Jake, you take Dorn an' Lenore a piece toward the house, then hurry back." Then Lenore felt that she had hold of Dorn's arm and she was listening to Jake without understanding a word he said, while she did hear her father's yell of command, "Line up there, you I.W.W.'s!" Jake walked so swiftly that Lenore had to run to keep up. Dorn stumbled. He spoke incoherently. He tried to stop. At this Lenore clasped his arm and cried, "Oh, Kurt, come home with me!" They hurried down the slope. Lenore kept looking back. The crowd appeared bunched now, with little motion. That relieved her. There was no more fighting. Presently Dorn appeared to go more willingly. He had relaxed. "Let go, Jake," he said. "I'm--all right--now. That arm hurts." "Wal, you'll excuse me, Dorn, for handlin' you rough.... Mebbe you don't remember punchin' me one when I got between you an' Glidden?" "Did I?... I couldn't see, Jake," said Dorn. His voice was weak and had a spent ring of passion in it. He did not look at Lenore, but kept his face turned toward the cowboy. "I reckon this 's fur enough," rejoined Jake, halting and looking back. "No one comin'. An' there'll be hell to pay out there. You go on to the house with Miss Lenore.... Will you?" "Yes," replied Dorn. "Rustle along, then.... An' you, Miss Lenore, don't you worry none about us." Lenore nodded and, holding Dorn's arm closely, she walked as fast as she could down the lane.