Such a faint little call he never would have been sure he heard anything if Belshazzar had not stopped suddenly. The hair on the back of his neck arose and he turned with a growl in his throat. The Harvester dropped his load with a crash and ran in leaping bounds, but the dog was before him. Half way to the house, Ruth Jameson swayed in the grip of her uncle. One hand clutched his coat front in a spasmodic grasp, and with the other she covered her face. The roar the Harvester sent up stayed the big, lifted fist, and the dog leaped for a throat hold, and compelled the man to defend himself. The Harvester never knew how he covered the space until he stood between them, and saw the Girl draw back and snatch together the front of her dress. “He took it from me!” she panted. “Make him, oh make him give back my money!” Then for a few seconds things happened too rapidly to record. Once the Harvester tossed a torn envelope exposing money to the Girl, and again a revolver, and then both men panting and dishevelled were on their feet. “Count your money, Ruth?” said the Harvester in a voice of deadly quiet. “It is all here,” said she. “Her money?” cried Henry Jameson. “My money! She has been stealing the price of my cattle from my pockets. I thought I was short several times lately.” “You are lying,” said the Harvester deliberately. “It is her money. I just paid it to her. You were trying to take it from her, not the other way.” “Oh, she is in your pay?” leered the man. “If you say an insulting word I think very probably I will finish you,” said the Harvester. “I can, with my naked hands, and all your neighbours will say it is a a good job. You have felt my grip! I warn you!” “How does my niece come to be taking money from you!” “You have forfeited all right to know. Ruth, you cannot remain here. You must come with me. I will take you to Onabasha and find you a room.” A horrible laugh broke from the man. “So that is the end of my saintly niece!” he said. “Remember!” cried the Harvester advancing a step. “Ruth, will you go to the rest I suggested for you?” “I cannot.” “Will you go to Doctor Carey's wife?” “Impossible!” “Will you marry me and go to the shelter of my home with me?” Wild-eyed she stared at him. “Why?” “Because I love you, and want life made easier for you, above anything else on earth.” “But your Dream Girl!” “YOU ARE THE DREAM GIRL! I thought the red bird told you for me! I didn't know it would be a shock. I believed I had made you understand.” By that time she was shaking with a nervous chill, and the sight unmanned the Harvester. “Come with me!” he urged. “We will decide what you want to do on the way. Only come, I beg you.” “First it was marry, now it's decide later,” broke in Henry Jameson, crazed with anger. “Move a step and I'll strike you down. I'd better than see you disgraced----” The Harvester advanced and Jameson stepped back.