If Vil Holland reached town first--well, she could teach school. Scalding tears blinded her as with quirt and spur she crowded her horse to his utmost. Only one slender hope remained. With Thompson's fresh horse, Lightning, she might yet win the race. The chance was slim, but she would take it! Her own horse was laboring heavily, a solid lather of sweat, as his feet pounded the trail that wound white and hot through the foothills. "It's your last hard ride," she sobbed into his ear as she urged him on. "Win or lose, boy, it's your last hard ride--and we've got to make it!" She whirled into Thompson's lane and, in the dooryard, threw herself from her horse almost into the arms of the big ranchman who stared at her in surprise. "Must be somethin's busted loose in the hills, that folks is all takin' to the open!" he exclaimed. "Where's Lightning?" cried the girl. "Quick! I want him!" "Lightnin'?" repeated Thompson. "Why, Lightnin's gone--Vil Holland come along an hour or so ago, an' rode him on to town. Turned Buck into the corral, yonder--he was rode down almost as bad as yourn." Patty's brain reeled dizzily as from a blow. Lightning gone! Her one slim chance of saving her mine had vanished in a breath. She felt suddenly weak, and sick, and leaning against her saddle for support, she closed her eyes and buried her face in her arm. "What's the matter, Miss? Somethin' wrong?" The girl laughed, a dry hard laugh, and raising her head, looked into the man's face. "Oh, no!" she said. "Nothing's wrong--nothing except that I've lost my father's claim--lost it because I relied on your horse to carry me into town in time to file ahead of _him_." "Lost yer pa's claim?" cried Thompson. "What do you mean--lost? Has that devil dared to show his face after the horse raid?" He paused suddenly and smiled. "Now don't you go worryin' about that there claim. Vil Holland's on the job! I know'd there was somethin' in the wind when he come a-larrupin' in here an' jerked his kak offen Buck an' throw'd it on Lightnin' without hardly a word. Vil, he'll head him! An' when he does, Bethune'll be lucky if he lives long enough to git hung!" "Bethune! Bethune!" cried the girl bitterly. "Bethune's got nothing to do with it! It's Vil Holland himself that's going to file my claim. Have you got another horse here?" she cried. "If you have I want him. I'm not beaten yet! There's still a chance! Maybe Lightning will go down, or something. Quick--change my saddle!" Catching up a rope, Thompson ran to the corral and throwing his loop over the head of a horse led him out and transferred the girl's saddle and bridle. "I don't git the straight of it," he said, eying her with a puzzled frown. "But if it's a question of gittin' to town before Vil Holland kin beat you out of yer claim--you've got plenty of time--if you walk." Patty shot the man one glance of withering scorn. "You're all _crazy_! He's got you hypnotized! Everybody thinks he's a saint----"