"Then listen: Taggart and Gallup and Shipton and a thousand other men are going crazy to find out! You and I can turn the whole trick if luck is good.... Why, we'll quit millionaires, Lynette!" A shudder shot through the tortured body of old Thor. Lynette's long lashes lifted, wet with her tears. "There are things ... beyond millions...." "I don't get you to-day!" "Why did you kill this dog? What good did it do you? What harm had he ever done you?" "He was in my way. I thought, I told you, that a rifle might have been left behind. And ... it's Standing's dog, anyway! And, beyond that, no matter how you look at it, only a dog...." "I think," said Lynette, and there was no music in her voice now and no warmth in the eyes which she lifted briefly to his, "that you had better go! Had you come, without rifle, upon Bruce Standing, at least he would have thrown his rifle away to fight with you! You know that. And ... and I am not going to go with you, having given my promise. And I'll warn you of this: If he comes back and finds you here and knows you for the man who killed Thor.... He will kill you!" Never in all his daredevil life had Babe Deveril made pretense at striking the angelic attitude. Now, in a rush of feeling, he grew black with anger and there came a look into his eyes which put the hottest flush of all her life into Lynette's cheeks, as he cried out: "Tamed you, has he? So Timber-Wolf has taken a mate after the fashion of wolves! And I, fool that I was, let you slip through my fingers!" She did not answer him. Had she answered she could have said: "You could have returned to fight with him; man to man and him wounded! Later, when he snatched Mexicali Joe from them, you could have fought with him. You could have followed him here, seeking me; and you followed Joe, seeking gold. You could have fought with him to-day; and instead you held back and spied and killed his dog and waited for him to go!..." So Lynette, stooping low over Thor's battered head, made no answer. ... She knew that Babe Deveril was no coward. She would always remember how he had hurled that gun into Taggart's face and himself into her adventures, reckless and unafraid. Yet Babe Deveril was no such man as Bruce Standing; rather was he like a Jim Taggart, and Taggart was no coward. But it remained that both these men, Deveril and Taggart, were afraid to come to grips with that other man, whose fellows named him Timber-Wolf. And he, the Timber-Wolf, was not afraid of life and all that it bore; and was not afraid of sombre death, in which he did not believe; was not afraid of God, in whom he trusted. "You've thrown in with him!" Deveril cried it out angrily; his hands were hard upon his club. "Here, I've given days and days trying to see you through, and you've kicked in with him against me! He's had his will with you and he's made you his woman and...." "You'd better go!" She was trembling. A spasm shook her, not unlike that which convulsed Thor.