"Why, God bless you! there's only one road in the world for you and me," said he. His hand met hers where it fluttered like a dove between them; his slow, translating smile woke in his eyes and spread like a sunbeam over his stern lips. Behind them Mrs. Chadron was calling. Frances turned and waved her hand. "Come back, Frances, come back here!" Mrs. Chadron's words came distinctly to them, for they were not more than a hundred yards from the gate, and there was a note of eagerness in them, almost a command. Both of them turned. There was a commotion among the men at the gate, a hurrying and loud words. Nola was beckoning to Frances to return; now she called her name, with fearful entreaty. "That's Chance Dalton with his arm in a sling," said Macdonald, looking at her curiously. "What's up?" "Chadron has made them all believe that you stole Nola for the sole purpose of making a pretended rescue to win sympathy for your cause," she said. "Even Nola will believe it--maybe they've told her. Chadron has offered a reward of fifty dollars--a bonus, he called it, so maybe there is more--to the man that kills you! Come on--quick! I'll tell you as we go." Macdonald's horse was refreshed in some measure by the diminishing of its burden, but the best that it could do was a tired, hard-jogging gallop. In a little while they rounded the screen of brush which hid them from the ranchhouse and from those who Frances knew would be their pursuers in a moment. Quickly she told him of her reason for wanting to go to the post, and Chadron's reason for desiring to hold her at the ranch. Macdonald looked at her with new life in his weary eyes. "We'll win now; you were the one recruit I lacked," he said. "But they'll kill you--Mrs. Chadron can't hold them back--she doesn't want to hold them back--for she's full of Chadron's lies about you. Your horse is worn out--you can't outrun them." "How many are there besides the five I saw?" "Only Dalton, and he's supposed to be crippled." "Oh, well," he said, easily, as if only five whole men and a cripple didn't amount to so much, taken all in the day's work. "Your men up there need your leadership and advice. Take my horse and go; he can outrun them." He looked at her admiringly, but with a little reproving shake of the head. "There's neither mercy nor manhood in any man that rides in Saul Chadron's pay," he told her. "They'd overtake you on this old plug before you'd gone a mile. The one condition on which I part company with you is that you ride ahead, this instant, and that you put your horse through for all that's in him." "And leave you to fight six of them!" "Staying here would only put you in unnecessary danger. I ask you to go, and go at once." "I'll not go!" She said it finally and emphatically. Macdonald checked his horse; she held back her animal to the slow pace of his. Now he offered his hand, as in farewell.