And then, before them all, Bass fell on his knees beside the rock and sank his face in his arms. None but Lafe knew that he was praying. The crowd thought that he had fainted from weakness and sought to rouse him, urging him to go on with the test. At last he rose. "It ain't fair," he said in a loud voice, "it isn't fair. And the dice are loaded. But--well, I'll try. I'm innocent, and I reckon He'll see me through, somehow." Saying this, Bass rattled the dice in his hand and clapped them down with all his strength. So violent was his passion that they rolled off the rock upon the ground. "The throw counts!" the crowd yelled--"the throw's got to count. He's trying to gain time." Lafe bent to examine the dice. As he did so he began to shout frantically, and he waved the crowd back. "Look there!" he yelled, and pointed to three pieces of ivory on the ground. The force of Bass's throw had broken a dice. One of them registered a six. The half of the other showed a six. And the broken half showed one. The total was thirteen. He had done the impossible; he had beaten the half-breed by a point. Baptismo gazed down at the fragments in stupefaction. His mouth was open, but for a minute at least no sound came from it. Then he whispered: "It's the judgment of God." He collapsed and huddled in an abject heap, clasping Lafe's knees. And in that position he sobbed out his confession. Yes, he had killed Sellers--killed him there by the spring. They had long been enemies, and Sellers had insulted him in front of Florence Steel. He had followed when Jerry went to the spring. Sellers was singing. Sellers had angered the girl and she urged him to pick a quarrel. When he struck, Florence was coming down the path close behind. She saw it all, for she was quite close. He threw away the knife--he had found it--and ran to the barn. There he saw Bass coming from the bushes beside the spring. He knew of Mordecai's quarrel with Sellers, and when he perceived that Bass was about to ride off, he resolved to stay at the ranch. "I reckon," said Lafe, as he and Bass moved along the homeward trail that night, "I reckon you'd best leave Florence be, Mordecai. What do you think? Seems to me she set more store by that feller swinging back there." "Don't," Bass entreated. "Yes, I reckon she did, Lafe. She must have loved him a heap." "Women are queer," said Lafe. "Say," he said suddenly again, "if you were in the bushes there, you must have seen the killing. Why didn't you speak out?" His companion flushed and looked uncomfortable. Luckily it was dark. "No, I didn't see who stabbed him, at all. I didn't see Baptismo there. I only saw Florence coming along the path. And I'd lent her my knife, and--" Both were silent a long time. Their ponies went steadily forward, their riders' legs occasionally touching. Finally Bass roused. "What beats me," he said, "is how you happened to pick on Baptismo."