"It isn't that," she said. "He isn't my father, any more. But--" she looked at Dakota pleadingly--"please don't shoot him. Go--leave the country. You have plenty of time. You have enough to answer for. Please go!" For answer he grasped her by the shoulders, swinging her around so that she faced him,--as he had forced her to face him that day on the river trail--and there was a regretful, admiring gleam in his eyes. "You told him--" he jerked a thumb toward Langford--"that you wouldn't bear witness against me. I heard you. You're a true blue girl, and your father's a fool or he wouldn't lose you, like he is going to lose you. If I had you I would take mighty good care that you didn't get away from me. You've given me some mighty good advice, and I would act on it if I was guilty of shooting Doubler. But I didn't shoot him--your father and Duncan have framed up on me. Doubler isn't dead yet, and so I'm not running away. If Doubler had someone to nurse him, he might--" He hesitated and looked at her with a strange smile. "You think I shot Doubler, too, don't you? Well, there's a chance that if we can get Doubler revived he can tell who did shoot him. Do you want to know the truth? I heard you say a while ago, while I was standing at the window, looking in at your father giving a demonstration of his love for you, that you intended going over to Doubler's shack to nurse him. If you're still of the same mind, I'll take you over there." Sheila was at the door in an instant, but halted on the threshold to listen to Dakota's parting word to Langford. "Mister man," he said enigmatically, "there's just one thing that I want to say to you. There's a day coming when you'll think thoughts--plenty of them." In a flash he had stepped outside the door and closed it after him. A few minutes later, still standing beside the desk, Langford heard the rapid beat of hoofs on the hard sand of the corral yard. Faint they became, and their rhythmic beat faster, until they died away entirely. But Dakota's words still lingered in Langford's mind, and it seemed to him that they conveyed a prophecy. CHAPTER XV THE PARTING ON THE RIVER TRAIL "I'll be leaving you now, ma'am." There was a good moon, and its mellow light streamed full into Dakota's grim, travel-stained face as he halted his pony on the crest of a slope above the Two Forks and pointed out a light that glimmered weakly through the trees on a level some distance on the other side of the river. "There's Doubler's cabin--where you see that light," he continued, speaking to Sheila in a low voice. "You've been there before, and you won't get lost going the rest of the way alone. Do what you can for Doubler. I'm going down to my shack. I've done a heap of riding to-day, and I don't feel exactly like I want to keep going on, unless it's important. Besides, maybe Doubler will get along a whole lot better if I don't hang around there. At least, he'll do as well."