After a few moments she reached out and picked it up. The next moment she was standing erect at her bureau, and with a pair of scissors she severed the string and dropped the grass tuft to the floor. The paper was folded and thumb-marked by dirty hands. With shaking fingers and tense nerves she deliberately unfolded it. It was a note, and she read it eagerly. "You sold the lives of men for a price. You had it your way then. We're goin' to have our way now. You'll pay for that deal the only way we know." * * * * * * Elvine sat watching the scenes of the work of the range. The men were returning from distant points making for the ranch house where their evening meal was awaiting them at the bunkhouse. Teams were moving toward the barns, and barn-hands were watering those which had already returned. There was a general stir everywhere. Certain stock was being corralled and hayed for the night. In the hay corral men were busy cutting and hauling feed. There was no loneliness, no solitude. The business of so great an enterprise as the Obar Ranch involved many hands, and seemingly endless work. But Elvine watched these things without interest. In her present state of mind they meant nothing to her, they could mean nothing. She was waiting, waiting in a perfect fever for the home-coming of her husband. Strangely, too, she was not without a glimmer of hope. Somehow the belief had taken possession of her that had Jeff learned anything of her story he must have been home before this. It seemed to her that he must have flung every consideration to the winds, and rushed in fevered haste to denounce her as the murderess of his twin brother. The mysterious note which had been flung in through her open window had left her sleepless for the rest of the night, but, even so, now, in the broad light of day, it was only relatively alarming. The other terror overwhelmed it. The sun was already tinting the hilltops with ruddy, golden hues. The frigid snow-caps no longer wore their sheen of alabaster. There was a golden radiance everywhere, a suggestion of a perfect peace, such as the woman felt could never again find place in her heart. She turned her eyes from the splendor of the scene in silent protest. The green of the wide-spreading valley, even the dark purple shadows of the lower mountain slopes were better in harmony with her mood. But even these she denied in her nervous irritation, and again, and yet again, her searching gaze was flung out to the northwest along the trail over which she knew her husband must come. The waiting seemed endless. And the woman's heart literally stood still when at last she detected an infinitesimal flurry of dust away on the far distance of the trail. A mad desire surged through her to flee for hiding to those vast purple solitudes she knew to lie in the heart of the hills.