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〃Oh！ 。 。 。 I'll KILL y'u！〃 she hissed。
Isbel stood up and wiped the red scratches on his face。 〃Go ahead。
There's my gun；〃 he said； pointing to his saddle sheath。〃 Somebody's
got to begin this Jorth…Isbel feud。 It'll be a dirty business。 I'm
sick of it already。 。 。 。 Kill me！ 。 。 。 First blood for Ellen Jorth！〃
Suddenly the dark grim tide that had seemed to engulf Ellen's very soul
cooled and receded； leaving her without its false strength。 She began
to sag。 She stared at Isbel's gun。 〃Kill him；〃 whispered the retreating
voices of her hate。 But she was as powerless as if she were still held
in Jean Isbel's giant embrace。
〃II want tokill y'u；〃 she whispered； 〃but I cain't。 。 。 。
Leave me。〃
〃You're no Jorththe same as I'm no Isbel。 We oughtn't be mixed in
this deal；〃 he said； somberly。 〃I'm sorrier for you than I am for
myself。 。 。 。 You're a girl。 。 。 。 You once had a good mothera decent
home。 And this life you've led heremean as it's beenis nothin' to
what you'll face now。 Damn the men that brought you to this！ I'm goin'
to kill some of them。〃
With that he mounted and turned away。 Ellen called out for him to take
his horse。 He did not stop nor look back。 She called again； but her
voice was fainter； and Isbel was now leaving at a trot。 Slowly she
sagged against the tree； lower and lower。 He headed into the trail
leading up the canyon。 How strange a relief Ellen felt！ She watched
him ride into the aspens and start up the slope； at last to disappear
in the pines。 It seemed at the moment that he took with him something
which had been hers。 A pain in her head dulled the thoughts that
wavered to and fro。 After he had gone she could not see so well。
Her eyes were tired。 What had happened to her？ There was blood on
her hands。 Isbel's blood！ She shuddered。 Was it an omen？ Lower
she sank against the tree and closed her eyes。
Old John Sprague did not return。 Hours dragged bydark hours for
Ellen Jorth lying prostrate beside the tree； hiding the blue sky and
golden sunlight from her eyes。 At length the lethargy of despair；
the black dull misery wore away； and she gradually returned to a
condition of coherent thought。
What had she learned？ Sight of the black horse grazing near seemed
to prompt the trenchant replies。 Spades belonged to Jean Isbel。 He
had been stolen by her father or by one of her father's accomplices。
Isbel's vaunted cunning as a tracker had been no idle boast。 Her
father was a horse thief； a rustler； a sheepman only as a blind；
a consort of Daggs； leader of the Hash Knife Gang。 Ellen well
remembered the ill repute of that gang； way back in Texas； years ago。
Her father had gotten in with this famous band of rustlers to serve
his own endsthe extermination of the Isbels。 It was all very plain
now to Ellen。
〃Daughter of a horse thief an' rustler！〃 she muttered。
And her thoughts sped back to the days of her girlhood。 Only the very
early stage of that time had been happy。 In the light of Isbel's
revelation the many changes of residence； the sudden moves to
unsettled parts of Texas； the periods of poverty and sudden prosperity；
all leading to the final journey to this God…forsaken Arizonathese
were now seen in their true significance。 As far back as she could
remember her father had been a crooked man。 And her mother had known
it。 He had dragged her to her ruin。 That degradation had killed her。
Ellen realized that with poignant sorrow； with a sudden revolt against
her father。 Had Gaston Isbel truly and dishonestly started her father
on his downhill road？ Ellen wondered。 She hated the Isbels with
unutterable and growing hate； yet she had it in her to think； to ponder；
to weigh judgments in their behalf。 She owed it to something in herself
to be fair。 But what did it matter who was to blame for the Jorth…Isbel
feud？ Somehow Ellen was forced to confess that deep in her soul it
mattered terribly。 To be true to herselfthe self that she alone
knewshe must have right on her side。 If the Jorths were guilty；
and she clung to them and their creed； then she would be one of them。
〃But I'm not；〃 she mused； aloud。 〃My name's Jorth； an' I reckon I have
bad blood。 。 。 。 But it never came out in me till to…day。 I've been
honest。 I've been goodyes； GOOD； as my mother taught me to bein
spite of all。 。 。 。 Shore my pride made me a fool。 。 。 。 An' now have
I any choice to make？ I'm a Jorth。 I must stick to my father。
All this summing up； however； did not wholly account for the pang in
her breast。
What had she done that day？ And the answer beat in her ears like a
great throbbing hammer…stroke。 In an agony of shame； in the throes
of hate； she had perjured herself。 She had sworn away her honor。 She
had basely made herself vile。 She had struck ruthlessly at the great
heart of a man who loved her。 Ah！ That thrust had rebounded to leave
this dreadful pang in her breast。 Loved her？ Yes； the strange truth；
the insupportable truth！ She had to contend now； not with her father
and her disgrace； not with the baffling presence of Jean Isbel； but
with the mysteries of her own soul。 Wonder of all wonders was it that
such love had been born for her。 Shame worse than all other shame was
it that she should kill it by a poisoned lie。 By what monstrous motive
had she done that？ To sting Isbel as he had stung her！ But that had
been base。 Never could she have stopped so low except in a moment of
tremendous tumult。 If she had done sore injury to Isbel what bad she
done to herself？ How strange； how tenacious had been his faith in her
honor！ Could she ever forget？ She must forget it。 But she could never
forget the way he had scorned those vile men in Greaves's storethe
way he had beaten Bruce for defiling her namethe way he had stubbornly
denied her own insinuations。 She was a woman now。 She had learned
something of the complexity of a woman's heart。 She could not change
nature。 And all her passionate being thrilled to the manhood of her
defender。 But even while she thrilled she acknowledged her hate。
It was the contention between the two that caused the pang in her
breast。 〃An' now what's left for me？〃 murmured Ellen。 She did not
analyze the significance of what had prompted that query。 The most
incalculable of the day's disclosures was the wrong she had done
herself。 〃Shore I'm done for； one way or another。 。 。 。 I must
stick to Dad。 。 。 。 or kill myself？〃
Ellen rode Spades back to the ranch。 She rode like the wind。 When she
swung out of the trail into the open meadow in plain sight of the ranch
her appearance created a commotion among the loungers before the cabin。
She rode Spades at a full run。
〃Who's after you？〃 yelled her father； as she pulled the black to a halt。
Jorth held a rifle。 Daggs； Colter； the other Jorths were there；
likewise armed； and all watchful； strung with expectancy。
〃Shore nobody's after me；〃 replied Ellen。 〃Cain't I run a horse round
heah without being chased？〃
Jorth appeared both incensed and relieved。
〃Hah！ 。 。 。 What you mean； girl； runnin' like a streak right down
on us？ You're actin' queer these days； an' you look que