Riders of the Purple Sage

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER VI. THE MILL-WHEEL OF STEERS

  Meantime, at the ranch, when Judkins's news had sent Venters on thetrail of the rustlers, Jane Withersteen led the injured man to her houseand with skilled fingers dressed the gunshot wound in his arm.

  "Judkins, what do you think happened to my riders?"

  "I--I d rather not say," he replied.

  "Tell me. Whatever you'll tell me I'll keep to myself. I'm beginningto worry about more than the loss of a herd of cattle. Venters hintedof--but tell me, Judkins."

  "Well, Miss Withersteen, I think as Venters thinks--your riders havebeen called in."

  "Judkins!... By whom?"

  "You know who handles the reins of your Mormon riders."

  "Do you dare insinuate that my churchmen have ordered in my riders?"

  "I ain't insinuatin' nothin', Miss Withersteen," answered Judkins, withspirit. "I know what I'm talking about. I didn't want to tell you."

  "Oh, I can't believe that! I'll not believe it! Would Tull leave myherds at the mercy of rustlers and wolves just because--because--? No,no! It's unbelievable."

  "Yes, thet particular thing's onheard of around Cottonwoods But, beggin'pardon, Miss Withersteen, there never was any other rich Mormon womanhere on the border, let alone one thet's taken the bit between herteeth."

  That was a bold thing for the reserved Judkins to say, but it did notanger her. This rider's crude hint of her spirit gave her a glimpse ofwhat others might think. Humility and obedience had been hers always.But had she taken the bit between her teeth? Still she wavered. Andthen, with quick spurt of warm blood along her veins, she thought ofBlack Star when he got the bit fast between his iron jaws and ran wildin the sage. If she ever started to run! Jane smothered the glow andburn within her, ashamed of a passion for freedom that opposed her duty.

  "Judkins, go to the village," she said, "and when you have learnedanything definite about my riders please come to me at once."

  When he had gone Jane resolutely applied her mind to a number of tasksthat of late had been neglected. Her father had trained her in themanagement of a hundred employees and the working of gardens and fields;and to keep record of the movements of cattle and riders. And beside themany duties she had added to this work was one of extreme delicacy, suchas required all her tact and ingenuity. It was an unobtrusive, almostsecret aid which she rendered to the Gentile families of the village.Though Jane Withersteen never admitted so to herself, it amounted to noless than a system of charity. But for her invention of numberless kindsof employment, for which there was no actual need, these families ofGentiles, who had failed in a Mormon community, would have starved.

  In aiding these poor people Jane thought she deceived her keenchurchmen, but it was a kind of deceit for which she did not pray to beforgiven. Equally as difficult was the task of deceiving the Gentiles,for they were as proud as they were poor. It had been a great grief toher to discover how these people hated her people; and it had been asource of great joy that through her they had come to soften in hatred.At any time this work called for a clearness of mind that precludedanxiety and worry; but under the present circumstances it required allher vigor and obstinate tenacity to pin her attention upon her task.

  Sunset came, bringing with the end of her labor a patient calmness andpower to wait that had not been hers earlier in the day. She expectedJudkins, but he did not appear. Her house was always quiet; to-night,however, it seemed unusually so. At supper her women served her with asilent assiduity; it spoke what their sealed lips could not utter--thesympathy of Mormon women. Jerd came to her with the key of the greatdoor of the stone stable, and to make his daily report about the horses.One of his daily duties was to give Black Star and Night and the otherracers a ten-mile run. This day it had been omitted, and the boy grewconfused in explanations that she had not asked for. She did inquire ifhe would return on the morrow, and Jerd, in mingled surprise and relief,assured her he would always work for her. Jane missed the rattle andtrot, canter and gallop of the incoming riders on the hard trails. Duskshaded the grove where she walked; the birds ceased singing; the windsighed through the leaves of the cottonwoods, and the running watermurmured down its stone-bedded channel. The glimmering of the first starwas like the peace and beauty of the night. Her faith welled up in herheart and said that all would soon be right in her little world. Shepictured Venters about his lonely camp-fire sitting between his faithfuldogs. She prayed for his safety, for the success of his undertaking.

  Early the next morning one of Jane's women brought in word that Judkinswished to speak to her. She hurried out, and in her surprise to see himarmed with rifle and revolver, she forgot her intention to inquire abouthis wound.

  "Judkins! Those guns? You never carried guns."

  "It's high time, Miss Withersteen," he replied. "Will you come into thegrove? It ain't jest exactly safe for me to be seen here."

  She walked with him into the shade of the cottonwoods.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Miss Withersteen, I went to my mother's house last night. While there,some one knocked, an' a man asked for me. I went to the door. He worea mask. He said I'd better not ride any more for Jane Withersteen. Hisvoice was hoarse an' strange, disguised I reckon, like his face. He saidno more, an' ran off in the dark."

  "Did you know who he was?" asked Jane, in a low voice.

  "Yes."

  Jane did not ask to know; she did not want to know; she feared to know.All her calmness fled at a single thought.

  "Thet's why I'm packin' guns," went on Judkins. "For I'll never quitridin' for you, Miss Withersteen, till you let me go."

  "Judkins, do you want to leave me?"

  "Do I look thet way? Give me a hoss--a fast hoss, an' send me out on thesage."

  "Oh, thank you, Judkins! You're more faithful than my own people. Iought not accept your loyalty--you might suffer more through it. Butwhat in the world can I do? My head whirls. The wrong to Venters--thestolen herd--these masks, threats, this coil in the dark! I can'tunderstand! But I feel something dark and terrible closing in aroundme."

  "Miss Withersteen, it's all simple enough," said Judkins, earnestly."Now please listen--an' beggin' your pardon--jest turn thet deaf Mormonear aside, an' let me talk clear an' plain in the other. I went aroundto the saloons an' the stores an' the loafin' places yesterday. All yourriders are in. There's talk of a vigilance band organized to hunt downrustlers. They call themselves 'The Riders.' Thet's the report--thet'sthe reason given for your riders leavin' you. Strange thet only afew riders of other ranchers joined the band! An' Tull's man, JerryCard--he's the leader. I seen him en' his hoss. He 'ain't been to Glaze.I'm not easy to fool on the looks of a hoss thet's traveled the sage.Tull an' Jerry didn't ride to Glaze!... Well, I met Blake en' Dorn, bothgood friends of mine, usually, as far as their Mormon lights will let'em go. But these fellers couldn't fool me, an' they didn't try veryhard. I asked them, straight out like a man, why they left you likethet. I didn't forget to mention how you nursed Blake's poor old motherwhen she was sick, an' how good you was to Dorn's kids. They lookedashamed, Miss Withersteen. An' they jest froze up--thet dark set lookthet makes them strange an' different to me. But I could tell thedifference between thet first natural twinge of conscience an' the laterlook of some secret thing. An' the difference I caught was thet theycouldn't help themselves. They hadn't no say in the matter. They lookedas if their bein' unfaithful to you was bein' faithful to a higher duty.An' there's the secret. Why it's as plain as--as sight of my gun here."

  "Plain!... My herds to wander in the sage--to be stolen! Jane Withersteena poor woman! Her head to be brought low and her spirit broken!... Why,Judkins, it's plain enough."

  "Miss Withersteen, let me get what boys I can gather, an' hold the whiteherd. It's on the slope now, not ten miles out--three thousand head,an' all steers. They're wild, an' likely to stampede at the pop of ajack-rabbit's ears. We'll camp right with them, en' try to hold them."

  "Judkins, I'll reward you some day for your servi
ce, unless all istaken from me. Get the boys and tell Jerd to give you pick of my horses,except Black Star and Night. But--do not shed blood for my cattle norheedlessly risk your lives."

  Jane Withersteen rushed to the silence and seclusion of her room, andthere could not longer hold back the bursting of her wrath. She wentstone-blind in the fury of a passion that had never before showed itspower. Lying upon her bed, sightless, voiceless, she was a writhing,living flame. And she tossed there while her fury burned and burned, andfinally burned itself out.

  Then, weak and spent, she lay thinking, not of the oppression that wouldbreak her, but of this new revelation of self. Until the last few daysthere had been little in her life to rouse passions. Her forefathershad been Vikings, savage chieftains who bore no cross and brooked nohindrance to their will. Her father had inherited that temper; and attimes, like antelope fleeing before fire on the slope, his people fledfrom his red rages. Jane Withersteen realized that the spirit of wrathand war had lain dormant in her. She shrank from black depths hithertounsuspected. The one thing in man or woman that she scorned above allscorn, and which she could not forgive, was hate. Hate headed a flamingpathway straight to hell. All in a flash, beyond her control therehad been in her a birth of fiery hate. And the man who had dragged herpeaceful and loving spirit to this degradation was a minister of God'sword, an Elder of her church, the counselor of her beloved Bishop.

  The loss of herds and ranges, even of Amber Spring and the Old StoneHouse, no longer concerned Jane Withersteen, she faced the foremostthought of her life, what she now considered the mightiest problem--thesalvation of her soul.

  She knelt by her bedside and prayed; she prayed as she had never prayedin all her life--prayed to be forgiven for her sin to be immune fromthat dark, hot hate; to love Tull as her minister, though she could notlove him as a man; to do her duty by her church and people and thosedependent upon her bounty; to hold reverence of God and womanhoodinviolate.

  When Jane Withersteen rose from that storm of wrath and prayer for helpshe was serene, calm, sure--a changed woman. She would do her duty asshe saw it, live her life as her own truth guided her. She might neverbe able to marry a man of her choice, but she certainly never wouldbecome the wife of Tull. Her churchmen might take her cattle and horses,ranges and fields, her corrals and stables, the house of Withersteen andthe water that nourished the village of Cottonwoods; but they could notforce her to marry Tull, they could not change her decision or breakher spirit. Once resigned to further loss, and sure of herself, JaneWithersteen attained a peace of mind that had not been hers for a year.She forgave Tull, and felt a melancholy regret over what she knew heconsidered duty, irrespective of his personal feeling for her. Firstof all, Tull, as he was a man, wanted her for himself; and secondly,he hoped to save her and her riches for his church. She did not believethat Tull had been actuated solely by his minister's zeal to save hersoul. She doubted her interpretation of one of his dark sayings--thatif she were lost to him she might as well be lost to heaven. JaneWithersteen's common sense took arms against the binding limits of herreligion; and she doubted that her Bishop, whom she had been taught haddirect communication with God--would damn her soul for refusing to marrya Mormon. As for Tull and his churchmen, when they had harassed her,perhaps made her poor, they would find her unchangeable, and then shewould get back most of what she had lost. So she reasoned, true at lastto her faith in all men, and in their ultimate goodness.

  The clank of iron hoofs upon the stone courtyard drew her hurriedlyfrom her retirement. There, beside his horse, stood Lassiter, his darkapparel and the great black gun-sheaths contrasting singularly with hisgentle smile. Jane's active mind took up her interest in him and herhalf-determined desire to use what charm she had to foil his evidentdesign in visiting Cottonwoods. If she could mitigate his hatred ofMormons, or at least keep him from killing more of them, not only wouldshe be saving her people, but also be leading back this bloodspiller tosome semblance of the human.

  "Mornin', ma'am," he said, black sombrero in hand.

  "Lassiter I'm not an old woman, or even a madam," she replied, with herbright smile. "If you can't say Miss Withersteen--call me Jane."

  "I reckon Jane would be easier. First names are always handy for me."

  "Well, use mine, then. Lassiter, I'm glad to see you. I'm in trouble."

  Then she told him of Judkins's return, of the driving of the red herd,of Venters's departure on Wrangle, and the calling-in of her riders.

  "'Pears to me you're some smilin' an' pretty for a woman with so muchtrouble," he remarked.

  "Lassiter! Are you paying me compliments? But, seriously I've made upmy mind not to be miserable. I've lost much, and I'll lose more.Nevertheless, I won't be sour, and I hope I'll never be unhappy--again."

  Lassiter twisted his hat round and round, as was his way, and took histime in replying.

  "Women are strange to me. I got to back-trailin' myself from them longago. But I'd like a game woman. Might I ask, seein' as how you take thistrouble, if you're goin' to fight?"

  "Fight! How? Even if I would, I haven't a friend except that boy whodoesn't dare stay in the village."

  "I make bold to say, ma'am--Jane--that there's another, if you wanthim."

  "Lassiter!... Thank you. But how can I accept you as a friend? Think!Why, you'd ride down into the village with those terrible guns and killmy enemies--who are also my churchmen."

  "I reckon I might be riled up to jest about that," he replied, dryly.

  She held out both hands to him.

  "Lassiter! I'll accept your friendship--be proud of it--return it--if Imay keep you from killing another Mormon."

  "I'll tell you one thing," he said, bluntly, as the gray lightningformed in his eyes. "You're too good a woman to be sacrificed as you'regoin' to be.... No, I reckon you an' me can't be friends on such terms."

  In her earnestness she stepped closer to him, repelled yet fascinated bythe sudden transition of his moods. That he would fight for her was atonce horrible and wonderful.

  "You came here to kill a man--the man whom Milly Erne--"

  "The man who dragged Milly Erne to hell--put it that way!... JaneWithersteen, yes, that's why I came here. I'd tell so much to no otherlivin' soul.... There're things such a woman as you'd never dream of--sodon't mention her again. Not till you tell me the name of the man!"

  "Tell you! I? Never!"

  "I reckon you will. An' I'll never ask you. I'm a man of strange beliefsan' ways of thinkin', an' I seem to see into the future an' feel thingshard to explain. The trail I've been followin' for so many yearswas twisted en' tangled, but it's straightenin' out now. An', JaneWithersteen, you crossed it long ago to ease poor Milly's agony. That,whether you want or not, makes Lassiter your friend. But you cross itnow strangely to mean somethin to me--God knows what!--unless by yournoble blindness to incite me to greater hatred of Mormon men."

  Jane felt swayed by a strength that far exceeded her own. In a clash ofwills with this man she would go to the wall. If she were to influencehim it must be wholly through womanly allurement. There was that aboutLassiter which commanded her respect. She had abhorred his name; faceto face with him, she found she feared only his deeds. His mysticsuggestion, his foreshadowing of something that she was to mean to him,pierced deep into her mind. She believed fate had thrown in her way thelover or husband of Milly Erne. She believed that through her an evilman might be reclaimed. His allusion to what he called her blindnessterrified her. Such a mistaken idea of his might unleash the bitter,fatal mood she sensed in him. At any cost she must placate this man; sheknew the die was cast, and that if Lassiter did not soften to a woman'sgrace and beauty and wiles, then it would be because she could not makehim.

  "I reckon you'll hear no more such talk from me," Lassiter went on,presently. "Now, Miss Jane, I rode in to tell you that your herd ofwhite steers is down on the slope behind them big ridges. An' I seensomethin' goin' on that'd be mighty interestin' to you, if you could seeit. Have you a field-glass?"
/>
  "Yes, I have two glasses. I'll get them and ride out with you. Wait,Lassiter, please," she said, and hurried within. Sending word to Jerd tosaddle Black Star and fetch him to the court, she then went to her roomand changed to the riding-clothes she always donned when going intothe sage. In this male attire her mirror showed her a jaunty, handsomerider. If she expected some little need of admiration from Lassiter, shehad no cause for disappointment. The gentle smile that she liked, whichmade of him another person, slowly overspread his face.

  "If I didn't take you for a boy!" he exclaimed. "It's powerful queerwhat difference clothes make. Now I've been some scared of your dignity,like when the other night you was all in white but in this rig--"

  Black Star came pounding into the court, dragging Jerd half off hisfeet, and he whistled at Lassiter's black. But at sight of Jane all hisdefiant lines seemed to soften, and with tosses of his beautiful head hewhipped his bridle.

  "Down, Black Star, down," said Jane.

  He dropped his head, and, slowly lengthening, he bent one foreleg, thenthe other, and sank to his knees. Jane slipped her left foot in thestirrup, swung lightly into the saddle, and Black Star rose with aringing stamp. It was not easy for Jane to hold him to a canter throughthe grove, and like the wind he broke when he saw the sage. Jane let himhave a couple of miles of free running on the open trail, and then shecoaxed him in and waited for her companion. Lassiter was not long incatching up, and presently they were riding side by side. It remindedher how she used to ride with Venters. Where was he now? She gazedfar down the slope to the curved purple lines of Deception Pass andinvoluntarily shut her eyes with a trembling stir of nameless fear.

  "We'll turn off here," Lassiter said, "en' take to the sage a mile orso. The white herd is behind them big ridges."

  "What are you going to show me?" asked Jane. "I'm prepared--don't beafraid."

  He smiled as if he meant that bad news came swiftly enough without beingpresaged by speech.

  When they reached the lee of a rolling ridge Lassiter dismounted,motioning to her to do likewise. They left the horses standing, bridlesdown. Then Lassiter, carrying the field-glasses began to lead the wayup the slow rise of ground. Upon nearing the summit he halted her with agesture.

  "I reckon we'd see more if we didn't show ourselves against the sky,"he said. "I was here less than an hour ago. Then the herd was seven oreight miles south, an' if they ain't bolted yet--"

  "Lassiter!... Bolted?"

  "That's what I said. Now let's see."

  Jane climbed a few more paces behind him and then peeped over the ridge.Just beyond began a shallow swale that deepened and widened into avalley and then swung to the left. Following the undulating sweep ofsage, Jane saw the straggling lines and then the great body of the whiteherd. She knew enough about steers, even at a distance of four orfive miles, to realize that something was in the wind. Bringing herfield-glass into use, she moved it slowly from left to right, whichaction swept the whole herd into range. The stragglers were restless;the more compactly massed steers were browsing. Jane brought the glassback to the big sentinels of the herd, and she saw them trot with quicksteps, stop short and toss wide horns, look everywhere, and then trot inanother direction.

  "Judkins hasn't been able to get his boys together yet," said Jane. "Buthe'll be there soon. I hope not too late. Lassiter, what's frighteningthose big leaders?"

  "Nothin' jest on the minute," replied Lassiter. "Them steers arequietin' down. They've been scared, but not bad yet. I reckon the wholeherd has moved a few miles this way since I was here."

  "They didn't browse that distance--not in less than an hour. Cattlearen't sheep."

  "No, they jest run it, en' that looks bad."

  "Lassiter, what frightened them?" repeated Jane, impatiently.

  "Put down your glass. You'll see at first better with a naked eye. Nowlook along them ridges on the other side of the herd, the ridges wherethe sun shines bright on the sage.... That's right. Now look en' lookhard en' wait."

  Long-drawn moments of straining sight rewarded Jane with nothing savethe low, purple rim of ridge and the shimmering sage.

  "It's begun again!" whispered Lassiter, and he gripped her arm."Watch.... There, did you see that?"

  "No, no. Tell me what to look for?"

  "A white flash--a kind of pin-point of quick light--a gleam as from sunshinin' on somethin' white."

  Suddenly Jane's concentrated gaze caught a fleeting glint. Quickly shebrought her glass to bear on the spot. Again the purple sage, magnifiedin color and size and wave, for long moments irritated her with itsmonotony. Then from out of the sage on the ridge flew up a broad, whiteobject, flashed in the sunlight and vanished. Like magic it was, andbewildered Jane.

  "What on earth is that?"

  "I reckon there's some one behind that ridge throwin' up a sheet or awhite blanket to reflect the sunshine."

  "Why?" queried Jane, more bewildered than ever.

  "To stampede the herd," replied Lassiter, and his teeth clicked.

  "Ah!" She made a fierce, passionate movement, clutched the glasstightly, shook as with the passing of a spasm, and then dropped herhead. Presently she raised it to greet Lassiter with something like asmile. "My righteous brethren are at work again," she said, in scorn.She had stifled the leap of her wrath, but for perhaps the first timein her life a bitter derision curled her lips. Lassiter's cool gray eyesseemed to pierce her. "I said I was prepared for anything; but that washardly true. But why would they--anybody stampede my cattle?"

  "That's a Mormon's godly way of bringin' a woman to her knees."

  "Lassiter, I'll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led I won'tbe driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?"

  "I don't like the looks of them big steers. But you can never tell.Cattle sometimes stampede as easily as buffalo. Any little flash or movewill start them. A rider gettin' down an' walkin' toward them sometimeswill make them jump an' fly. Then again nothin' seems to scare them.But I reckon that white flare will do the biz. It's a new one on me,an' I've seen some ridin' an' rustlin'. It jest takes one of themGod-fearin' Mormons to think of devilish tricks."

  "Lassiter, might not this trick be done by Oldring's men?" asked Jane,ever grasping at straws.

  "It might be, but it ain't," replied Lassiter. "Oldring's an honestthief. He don't skulk behind ridges to scatter your cattle to the fourwinds. He rides down on you, an' if you don't like it you can throw agun."

  Jane bit her tongue to refrain from championing men who at the verymoment were proving to her that they were little and mean compared evenwith rustlers.

  "Look!... Jane, them leadin' steers have bolted. They're drawin' thestragglers, an' that'll pull the whole herd."

  Jane was not quick enough to catch the details called out by Lassiter,but she saw the line of cattle lengthening. Then, like a stream of whitebees pouring from a huge swarm, the steers stretched out from the mainbody. In a few moments, with astonishing rapidity, the whole herd gotinto motion. A faint roar of trampling hoofs came to Jane's ears, andgradually swelled; low, rolling clouds of dust began to rise above thesage.

  "It's a stampede, an' a hummer," said Lassiter.

  "Oh, Lassiter! The herd's running with the valley! It leads into thecanyon! There's a straight jump-off!"

  "I reckon they'll run into it, too. But that's a good many miles yet.An', Jane, this valley swings round almost north before it goes east.That stampede will pass within a mile of us."

  The long, white, bobbing line of steers streaked swiftly through thesage, and a funnel-shaped dust-cloud arose at a low angle. A dullrumbling filled Jane's ears.

  "I'm thinkin' of millin' that herd," said Lassiter. His gray glanceswept up the slope to the west. "There's some specks an' dust way offtoward the village. Mebbe that's Judkins an' his boys. It ain't likelyhe'll get here in time to help. You'd better hold Black Star here onthis high ridge."

  He ran to his horse and, throwing off saddle-bags and tightening thecinches, he leaped astride and gal
loped straight down across the valley.

  Jane went for Black Star and, leading him to the summit of the ridge,she mounted and faced the valley with excitement and expectancy. She hadheard of milling stampeded cattle, and knew it was a feat accomplishedby only the most daring riders.

  The white herd was now strung out in a line two miles long. The dullrumble of thousands of hoofs deepened into continuous low thunder, andas the steers swept swiftly closer the thunder became a heavy roll.Lassiter crossed in a few moments the level of the valley to the easternrise of ground and there waited the coming of the herd. Presently, asthe head of the white line reached a point opposite to where Jane stood,Lassiter spurred his black into a run.

  Jane saw him take a position on the off side of the leaders of thestampede, and there he rode. It was like a race. They swept on down thevalley, and when the end of the white line neared Lassiter's firststand the head had begun to swing round to the west. It swung slowly andstubbornly, yet surely, and gradually assumed a long, beautiful curve ofmoving white. To Jane's amaze she saw the leaders swinging, turning tillthey headed back toward her and up the valley. Out to the right ofthese wild plunging steers ran Lassiter's black, and Jane's keen eyeappreciated the fleet stride and sure-footedness of the blind horse.Then it seemed that the herd moved in a great curve, a huge half-moonwith the points of head and tail almost opposite, and a mile apart ButLassiter relentlessly crowded the leaders, sheering them to the left,turning them little by little. And the dust-blinded wild followersplunged on madly in the tracks of their leaders. This ever-moving,ever-changing curve of steers rolled toward Jane and when below her,scarce half a mile, it began to narrow and close into a circle. Lassiterhad ridden parallel with her position, turned toward her, then aside,and now he was riding directly away from her, all the time pushing thehead of that bobbing line inward.

  It was then that Jane, suddenly understanding Lassiter's feat staredand gasped at the riding of this intrepid man. His horse was fleet andtireless, but blind. He had pushed the leaders around and around tillthey were about to turn in on the inner side of the end of that lineof steers. The leaders were already running in a circle; the end of theherd was still running almost straight. But soon they would be wheeling.Then, when Lassiter had the circle formed, how would he escape? WithJane Withersteen prayer was as ready as praise; and she prayed for thisman's safety. A circle of dust began to collect. Dimly, as through ayellow veil, Jane saw Lassiter press the leaders inward to close the gapin the sage. She lost sight of him in the dust, again she thought shesaw the black, riderless now, rear and drag himself and fall. Lassiterhad been thrown--lost! Then he reappeared running out of the dust intothe sage. He had escaped, and she breathed again.

  Spellbound, Jane Withersteen watched this stupendous millwheel ofsteers. Here was the milling of the herd. The white running circleclosed in upon the open space of sage. And the dust circles closed aboveinto a pall. The ground quaked and the incessant thunder of poundinghoofs rolled on. Jane felt deafened, yet she thrilled to a new sound. Asthe circle of sage lessened the steers began to bawl, and when it closedentirely there came a great upheaval in the center, and a terriblethumping of heads and clicking of horns. Bawling, climbing, goring, thegreat mass of steers on the inside wrestled in a crashing din, heavedand groaned under the pressure. Then came a deadlock. The inner strifeceased, and the hideous roar and crash. Movement went on in the outercircle, and that, too, gradually stilled. The white herd had come to astop, and the pall of yellow dust began to drift away on the wind.

  Jane Withersteen waited on the ridge with full and grateful heart.Lassiter appeared, making his weary way toward her through the sage. Andup on the slope Judkins rode into sight with his troop of boys. For thepresent, at least, the white herd would be looked after.

  When Lassiter reached her and laid his hand on Black Star's mane, Janecould not find speech.

  "Killed--my--hoss," he panted.

  "Oh! I'm sorry," cried Jane. "Lassiter! I know you can't replace him,but I'll give you any one of my racers--Bells, or Night, even BlackStar."

  "I'll take a fast hoss, Jane, but not one of your favorites," hereplied. "Only--will you let me have Black Star now an' ride him overthere an' head off them fellers who stampeded the herd?"

  He pointed to several moving specks of black and puffs of dust in thepurple sage.

  "I can head them off with this hoss, an' then--"

  "Then, Lassiter?"

  "They'll never stampede no more cattle."

  "Oh! No! No!... Lassiter, I won't let you go!"

  But a flush of fire flamed in her cheeks, and her trembling hands shookBlack Star's bridle, and her eyes fell before Lassiter's.