"He's a McIvor!" she cried, "his father killed my brother and my elder sister's son! And now he's killed my husband--he shot him from ambush, but I reached him before he died. He had fallen from the wagon and when I raised his head he whispered: "'Hall killed me--Hall McIvor!' And then he fell back, dead!" That was all her testimony, the only thing that held him and the one thing that could not be shaken; and he was bound over to the Grand Jury, which held him for trial at the pending session of court. But _had_ Isham spoken these words before he died? In the dreary days that followed Hall debated it, pro and con; but he knew and she knew that, as long as she swore to it, it might as well be the fact. For Isham was dead, there were no other witnesses; and it was a question of veracity between Miz Zoolah and himself, with the odds in favor of the woman. He was shut up in a cell, without a single friend to consult with or to carry a message to Allifair; but she was at large, with a band of Texas gunmen to see that his friends did not come. Meshackatee could help him, but Hall knew in his heart that Meshackatee dared not come; the man-trap was still set and he would not escape again as he had when he first came to town. And Allifair could help, for she had heard Isham's threats and his offer of a reward for his death; but the moment she appeared her aunt would seize upon her and make her a virtual prisoner. Winchester Bassett could help most, if he happened to be so minded; but he had escaped to the hills, riding a relay of swift horses, and established a perfect alibi. On the very day of the killing he had been seen in Maverick Basin, a hundred and twenty miles away. So the whole matter stood and Hall waited in silence until the day of his trial came at last. A thousand times, as he lay sweltering in the heat, breathing the dead, sickly air of his prison, he thought of Allifair, hidden away in their eagles' nest and watching the empty trail. How many times as the two long months dragged by must she have thought he was wounded or killed; and yet there was no one but Meshackatee that he would trust with a message, for Miz Zoolah was still on the watch. Somewhere, she knew, Hall had hidden away Allifair, and she had her spies even in the jail; and rather than expose her to the wrath of the Randolphs, Hall left Allifair to wait on alone. How she would live he could only guess, for her supplies would be exhausted; but he imagined her at dawn gathering grass-seeds and piñon-nuts or bringing back turkeys from her traps. He imagined her roasting acorns to grind them up for coffee and ranging like a quail to find berries, even gnawing the bark of trees or cooking mescal heads to break the dead monotony of her diet. Yet even that was better he said in his heart than to fall into the clutches of Miz Zoolah.