A shiver passed over her and her eyes went closed for a moment. The great choice was at hand now, and in her heart a fierce, short battle raged; on one side was arrayed her early training, all her teachings, all regard for the ideas of law and order which she had absorbed in the East, where human life was safeguarded as the first necessity; and on the other was the Unwritten Law of the range as exemplified by The Orphan. Blood, and human blood, was precious, and her early environment fought bitterly against this regime of direct justice, so startlingly driven into her mind by his bold, cold admission. And then, he had sinned in this way again after he had promised her not to do so. The last thought dominated her and she opened her eyes and looked at him hopefully. "Perhaps," she said, eagerly, "perhaps you could not avoid it--perhaps you were forced to do it." "No." "Oh!" she cried. "You did not--you did not shoot him down without warning! I _know_ you didn't!" "No, not that," he said slowly. "And, besides, this was his third offense. Twice I have given him his life, and I would have done so again but for what I discovered after I faced him." He paused for a moment and then continued, with more feeling in his voice, a ring of victory and an irrepressible elation. "I found that he was the man for whom I have been looking for fifteen years, and whom I had sworn to kill. He killed my father, killed him like a dog and without a chance for life, hung him to a tree on his own land. And when I learned that, when he had confessed to me, I forgot the new game, I forgot everything but the watch in my hand slowly ticking away his life, the time I had given him to make his peace with God--and I hated the slow seconds, I begrudged him every movement of the hands. Then I shot him, and I was glad, so glad--but oh, dear! If you--if you----" His voice wavered and broke and he dropped to his knees before her with bowed head as she came slowly toward him and seized the hem of her gown in both hands, kissing it passionately, burying his face in its folds like a tired boy at his mother's knee. Her eyes were filled with tears and they rimmed her lashes as she looked down on the man at her feet. Bending, she touched him and then placed her hands on his head, tenderly kissing the tangled hair in loving forgiveness. "Dear, dear boy," she murmured softly. "Don't, dear heart. Don't, you must not--oh, you must not! Please--come with me; get up, dear, and sit with me over here in the corner; then you shall tell me all about it. I am sure you have not done wrong--and if you have--don't you know I love you, boy? Don't you know I love you?"