“Shore!” exclaimed John. “I'd say the same--only I'm religious. Don't thet beady-eyed greaser's gall make you want to spit all over yourself? My Gawd! but Roy was mad! Roy's powerful fond of Miss Helen an' Bo.... Wal, then, Roy, first chance he got, braced Beasley an' give him some straight talk. Beasley was foamin' at the mouth, Roy said. It was then Riggs shot Roy. Shot him from behind Beasley when Roy wasn't lookin'! An' Riggs brags of bein' a gun-fighter. Mebbe thet wasn't a bad shot for him!” “I reckon,” replied Dale, as he swallowed hard. “Now, just what was Roy's message to me?” “Wal, I can't remember all Roy said,” answered John, dubiously. “But Roy shore was excited an' dead in earnest. He says: 'Tell Milt what's happened. Tell him Helen Rayner's in more danger than she was last fall. Tell him I've seen her look away acrost the mountains toward Paradise Park with her heart in her eyes. Tell him she needs him most of all!'” Dale shook all over as with an attack of ague. He was seized by a whirlwind of passionate, terrible sweetness of sensation, when what he wildly wanted was to curse Roy and John for their simple-minded conclusions. “Roy's--crazy!” panted Dale. “Wal, now, Milt--thet's downright surprisin' of you. Roy's the level-headest of any fellars I know.” “Man! if he MADE me believe him--an' it turned out untrue--I'd--I'd kill him,” replied Dale. “Untrue! Do you think Roy Beeman would lie?” “But, John--you fellows can't see my case. Nell Rayner wants me--needs me!... It can't be true!” “Wal, my love-sick pard--it jest IS true!” exclaimed John, feelingly. “Thet's the hell of life--never knowin'. But here it's joy for you. You can believe Roy Beeman about women as quick as you'd trust him to track your lost hoss. Roy's married three girls. I reckon he'll marry some more. Roy's only twenty-eight an' he has two big farms. He said he'd seen Nell Rayner's heart in her eyes, lookin' for you--an' you can jest bet your life thet's true. An' he said it because he means you to rustle down there an' fight for thet girl.” “I'll--go,” said Dale, in a shaky whisper, as he sat down on a pine log near the fire. He stared unseeingly at the bluebells in the grass by his feet while storm after storm possessed his breast. They were fierce and brief because driven by his will. In those few moments of contending strife Dale was immeasurably removed from that dark gulf of self which had made his winter a nightmare. And when he stood erect again it seemed that the old earth had a stirring, electrifying impetus for his feet. Something black, bitter, melancholy, and morbid, always unreal to him, had passed away forever. The great moment had been forced upon him. He did not believe Roy Beeman's preposterous hint regarding Helen; but he had gone back or soared onward, as if by magic, to his old true self.