Then Dale heard a voice in another room, a step, a creak of the door. It opened. A woman in white appeared. He recognized Helen. But instead of the rich brown bloom and dark-eyed beauty so hauntingly limned on his memory, he saw a white, beautiful face, strained and quivering in anguish, and eyes that pierced his heart. He could not speak.

"Oh! my friend--you've come!" she whispered.

Dale put out a shaking hand. But she did not see it. She clutched his shoulders, as if to feel whether or not he was real, and then her arms went up round his neck.

"Oh, thank G.o.d! I knew you would come!" she said, and her head sank to his shoulder.

Dale divined what he had suspected. Helen's sister had been carried off.

Yet, while his quick mind grasped Helen's broken spirit--the unbalance that was reason for this marvelous and glorious act--he did not take other meaning of the embrace to himself. He just stood there, transported, charged like a tree struck by lightning, making sure with all his keen senses, so that he could feel forever, how she was clinging round his neck, her face over his bursting heart, her quivering form close pressed to his.

"It's--Bo," he said, unsteadily.

"She went riding yesterday--and--never--came--back!" replied Helen, brokenly.

"I've seen her trail. She's been taken into the woods. I'll find her.

I'll fetch her back," he replied, rapidly.

With a shock she seemed to absorb his meaning. With another shock she raised her face--leaned back a little to look at him.

"You'll find her--fetch her back?"

"Yes," he answered, instantly.

With that ringing word it seemed to Dale she realized how she was standing. He felt her shake as she dropped her arms and stepped back, while the white anguish of her face was flooded out by a wave of scarlet. But she was brave in her confusion. Her eyes never fell, though they changed swiftly, darkening with shame, amaze, and with feelings he could not read.

"I'm almost--out of my head," she faltered.

"No wonder. I saw that.... But now you must get clear-headed. I've no time to lose."

He led her to the door.

"John, it's Bo that's gone," he called. "Since yesterday.... Send the boy to get me a bag of meat an' bread. You run to the corral an' get me a fresh horse. My old horse Ranger if you can find him quick. An'

rustle."

Without a word John leaped bareback on one of the horses he had just unsaddled and spurred him across the courtyard.

Then the big cougar, seeing Helen, got up from where he lay on the porch and came to her.

"Oh, it's Tom!" cried Helen, and as he rubbed against her knees she patted his head with trembling hand. "You big, beautiful pet! Oh, how I remember! Oh, how Bo would love to--"

"Where's Carmichael?" interrupted Dale. "Out huntin' Bo?"

"Yes. It was he who missed her first. He rode everywhere yesterday. Last night when he came back he was wild. I've not seen him to-day. He made all the other men but Hal and Joe stay home on the ranch."

"Right. An' John must stay, too," declared Dale. "But it's strange.

Carmichael ought to have found the girl's tracks. She was ridin' a pony?"

"Bo rode Sam. He's a little bronc, very strong and fast."

"I come across his tracks. How'd Carmichael miss them?"

"He didn't. He found them--trailed them all along the north range.

That's where he forbade Bo to go. You see, they're in love with each other. They've been at odds. Neither will give in. Bo disobeyed him.

There's hard ground off the north range, so he said. He was able to follow her tracks only so far."

"Were there any other tracks along with hers?"

"No."

"Miss Helen, I found them 'way southeast of Pine up on the slope of the mountain. There were seven other horses makin' that trail--when we run across it. On the way down we found a camp where men had waited. An'

Bo's pony, led by a rider on a big horse, come into that camp from the east--maybe north a little. An' that tells the story."

"Riggs ran her down--made off with her!" cried Helen, pa.s.sionately. "Oh, the villain! He had men in waiting. That's Beasley's work. They were after me."

"It may not be just what you said, but that's close enough. An' Bo's in a bad fix. You must face that an' try to bear up under--fears of the worst."

"My friend! You will save her!"

"I'll fetch her back, alive or dead."

"Dead! Oh, my G.o.d!" Helen cried, and closed her eyes an instant, to open them burning black. "But Bo isn't dead. I know that--I feel it. She'll not die very easy. She's a little savage. She has no fear. She'd fight like a tigress for her life. She's strong. You remember how strong. She can stand anything. Unless they murder her outright she'll live--a long time--through any ordeal.... So I beg you, my friend, don't lose an hour--don't ever give up!"

Dale trembled under the clasp of her hands. Loosing his own from her clinging hold, he stepped out on the porch. At that moment John appeared on Ranger, coming at a gallop.

"Nell, I'll never come back without her," said Dale. "I reckon you can hope--only be prepared. That's all. It's hard. But these d.a.m.ned deals are common out here in the West."

"Suppose Beasley comes--here!" exclaimed Helen, and again her hand went out toward him.

"If he does, you refuse to get off," replied Dale. "But don't let him or his greasers put a dirty hand on you. Should he threaten force--why, pack some clothes--an' your valuables--an' go down to Mrs. Ca.s.s's. An'

wait till I come back!"

"Wait--till you--come back!" she faltered, slowly turning white again.

Her dark eyes dilated. "Milt--you're like Las Vegas. You'll kill Beasley!"

Dale heard his own laugh, very cold and strange, foreign to his ears. A grim, deadly hate of Beasley vied with the tenderness and pity he felt for this distressed girl. It was a sore trial to see her leaning there against the door--to be compelled to leave her alone. Abruptly be stalked off the porch. Tom followed him. The black horse whinnied his recognition of Dale and snorted at sight of the cougar. Just then the Mexican boy returned with a bag. Dale tied this, with the small pack, behind the saddle.

"John, you stay here with Miss Helen," said Dale. "An' if Carmichael comes back, keep him, too! An' to-night, if any one rides into Pine from the way we come, you be sure to spot him."

"I'll do thet, Milt," responded John.

Dale mounted, and, turning for a last word to Helen, he felt the words of cheer halted on his lips as he saw her standing white and broken-hearted, with her hands to her bosom. He could not look twice.

"Come on there, you Tom," he called to the cougar. "Reckon on this track you'll pay me for all my trainin' of you."

"Oh, my friend!" came Helen's sad voice, almost a whisper to his throbbing ears. "Heaven help you--to save her! I--"

Then Ranger started and Dale heard no more. He could not look back. His eyes were full of tears and his breast ached. By a tremendous effort he shifted that emotion--called on all the spiritual energy of his being to the duty of this grim task before him.