She went to bed and to sleep with Hale's face in the dream-mist of her brain, and Uncle Billy's, and the bold, black eyes of Bad Rufe Tolliver--all fused, blurred, indistinguishable. Then suddenly Rufe's words struck that brain, word by word, like the clanging terror of a frightened bell. “I'm goin' to kill me a policeman.” And with the last word, it seemed, she sprang upright in bed, clutching the coverlid convulsively. Daylight was showing gray through her window. She heard a swift step up the steps, across the porch, the rattle of the door-chain, her father's quick call, then the rumble of two men's voices, and she knew as well what had happened as though she had heard every word they uttered. Rufe had killed him a policeman--perhaps John Hale--and with terror clutching her heart she sprang to the floor, and as she dropped the old purple gown over her shoulders, she heard the scurry of feet across the back porch--feet that ran swiftly but cautiously, and left the sound of them at the edge of the woods. She heard the back door close softly, the creaking of the bed as her father lay down again, and then a sudden splashing in the creek. Kneeling at the window, she saw strange horsemen pushing toward the gate where one threw himself from his saddle, strode swiftly toward the steps, and her lips unconsciously made soft, little, inarticulate cries of joy--for the stern, gray face under the hat of the man was the face of John Hale. After him pushed other men--fully armed--whom he motioned to either side of the cabin to the rear. By his side was Bob Berkley, and behind him was a red-headed Falin whom she well remembered. Within twenty feet, she was looking into that gray face, when the set lips of it opened in a loud command: “Hello!” She heard her father's bed creak again, again the rattle of the door-chain, and then old Judd stepped on the porch with a revolver in each hand. “Hello!” he answered sternly. “Judd,” said Hale sharply--and June had never heard that tone from him before--“a man with a black moustache killed one of our men over in the Gap yesterday and we've tracked him over here. There's his horse--and we saw him go into that door. We want him.” “Do you know who the feller is?” asked old Judd calmly. “No,” said Hale quickly. And then, with equal calm: “Hit was my brother,” and the old man's mouth closed like a vise. Had the last word been a stone striking his ear, Hale could hardly have been more stunned. Again he called and almost gently: “Watch the rear, there,” and then gently he turned to Devil Judd. “Judd, your brother shot a man at the Gap--without excuse or warning. He was an officer and a friend of mine, but if he were a stranger--we want him just the same. Is he here?” Judd looked at the red-headed man behind Hale. “So you're turned on the Falin side now, have ye?” he said contemptuously. “Is he here?” repeated Hale.