Betty saw a tall, handsome fellow in the first flush of manhood; Carrington, an angry girl, very beautiful and very indignant, struggling in a man's grasp.
At sight of the new-comer, Murrell, with an oath, released Betty, who, striking her horse with the whip galloped down the road toward the Barony.

As she fled past Carrington she bent low in her saddle.
"Don't let him follow me!" she gasped, and Carrington, striding forward, caught Murrell's horse by the bit.
"Not so fast, you!" he said coolly.

The two men glared at each other for a brief instant.
"Take your hand off my horse!" exclaimed Murrell hoarsely, his mouth hot and dry with a sense of defeat.
"Can't you see she'd rather be alone ?" said Carrington.
"Let go!" roared Murrell, and a murderous light shot from his eyes.
"I don't know but I should pull you out of that saddle and twist your neck!" said Carrington hotly.

Murrell's face underwent a swift change.
"You're a bold fellow to force your way into a lover's quarrel," he said quietly.

Carrington's arm dropped at his side.