Perhaps five minutes later she, too, became lost in the growing twilight, and her horse's hoofs awoke anew the echoes of the place. But her way did not lie in the track of the others. Her horse was racing headlong in the direction of Nan's home. Bud and Nan were just finishing their supper when Elvine broke in upon them. She came with a rush and a clatter which brought Nan out on to the veranda in hurry of anxious inquiry. Bud was behind her, but his movements lacked her impulse. Elvine was out of the saddle. She stood on the veranda, a figure of wild-eyed appeal. "Jeff! Oh, he's gone. Nan, they'll--they'll kill him! I know it. I'm certain. And I warned him. I warned him. But--oh!" She covered her face with her hands. It was a movement inspired by the memory of his scorn. Nan's responsive heart was caught by the other's emotion. But above it leaped a fear which she was powerless to deny. Jeff? Jeff in danger? She flung out an arm. Her small hand gripped the other with a force that was incredible. "What d'you mean?" she cried, almost fiercely. "Don't stand there like a fool. Who is going to harm Jeff?" The sharp authority, so prompt, so unexpected, dragged the distraught woman into some command of herself. She raised her head. Her eyes were hot with unshed tears. They looked into Nan's, so urgent, yet so full of a steadfast sanity. "It's Sikkem," she cried, steadying herself. "He's sent in to say he's badly shot up. He says he's located the rustlers' camp and must hand Jeff the news before--while he has time. Jeff's gone out there, and--Sikkem's one of the gang and escaped from Orrville four years ago." "How d'you know?" It was Bud's heavy voice put the question. It was full of stern command. "I've seen him. I know him, and--he knows me. He--he wrote this and sent it me." Elvine thrust the crumpled note at Bud. Her gesture was almost desperate. "When did he send it?" Again came Bud's command. "Days ago." "An' Jeff--didn't know till--now?" "I was afraid to tell him--then." Bud and Nan read the note by the parlor lamplight. A bitter imprecation broke from the man's lips. "Guess I don't get it--yet," he said. But Nan was quicker. "He's gone to Spruce Crossing--to Sikkem?" she cried, her eyes hot as they dwelt on the shaking woman before her. "Don't wait talking. It don't matter the right of things. You, Daddy, get our horses fixed and round up a bunch of boys from the bunkroom. Jeff's in danger, an' it's up to us. Maybe Evie'll tell me while you go." Something of the great Bud's feelings was displayed in the celerity of his movements. He was gone before Nan had finished speaking. The two women were left facing each other.