“You’re never clear of one mess before you’re into another,” Carver commented. “Damn Noll! Forget him. Think what it would mean to Molly to have a shooting in the family.” “There’s been one shooting in the family within the past few hours. She despises Noll and thinks considerable of me. Why should she feel worse about my shooting him than about his taking that shot at me?” Bart logically contended. “Ask her,” Carver returned. “I’ll send you home now before some of the boys roll in and start remarking broadcast about your being shot through the shoulder. I have to ride over to Oval Springs sometime soon and if you don’t keep that crippled shoulder under cover meantime, so’s the neighbors won’t get to speculating about your case, why I’ll up and jail you myself just to keep you out of trouble.” Bart faced him gravely. “There’s not much in this life I wouldn’t do for you,” he said. “I’d ride on into Washington and loot the Mint if you was needing pin money. If you had an enemy I’d assassinate him just to save you the trouble. You’ve used me white. But there’s some things that just have to be done. This here is one. I’m out to get Noll. He’s had it coming all his life. The day Noll passes out I’ll put myself under your orders and never stray outside my homestead fence for a solid year except when you say the word. I’ll give you a guarantee to that effect.” An hour after Bart’s departure Carver was saddling a fresh horse in the corral when a voice called to him from the edge of it. “What’s the trouble, Honey?” he inquired, resting his arms on the top bar of the corral gate and facing Molly Lassiter across it. “Don! Don’t let Bart go out after Noll,” she said. “Before I have time to thank you for helping him out this morning I’m asking you to do something else;” she essayed a laugh which ended in a sob. “But don’t let him do this. Can’t you think of some way? I never knew him to be in this mood before. He’s so quiet about it that I know he means to do it.” “Likely it will wear off before morning,” Carver encouraged, but he knew that morning would find Bart in the selfsame mood. Only years would suffice to alter the determination he had read in Bart’s face an hour past. “He’ll forget it in a day or two.” He spoke unconcernedly to reassure the girl for she was nearer the breaking point than he had ever seen her. Her habitual self-control had broken down. “You know he’ll never forget,” she said. “But I can’t have that--a shooting between brothers--don’t you see? Not that Noll really is a brother; but people will always think of it that way. I wish something had happened to Noll before I ever saw him--just for what he’s done to Dad and Bart. I’m wicked enough to wish him dead; he should be; he’s not fit to live. But Bart mustn’t do it. He’d never live it down.” She spoke disjointedly, her voice high-pitched and unnatural. Carver vaulted the corral bars and laid an arm about her shoulders.