Fay broke from her and, running to a corral fence, began to pat and pull the long, hanging ears of a drowsy burro.
One look at Lassiter armed her for a blow.
Without a word he led her across the wide yard to the rise of the ground upon which the stable stood.
"Jane--look!" he said, and pointed to the ground.
Jane glanced down, and again, and upon steadier vision made out splotches of blood on the stones, and broad, smooth marks in the dust, leading out toward the sage.
"What made these ?" she asked.
"I reckon somebody has dragged dead or wounded men out to where there was hosses in the sage." "Dead--or--wounded--men!" "I reckon--Jane, are you strong?
Can you bear up ?" His hands were gently holding hers, and his eyes--suddenly she could no longer look into them.

"Strong ?" she echoed, trembling.

"I--I will be." Up on the stone-flag drive, nicked with the marks made by the iron-shod hoofs of her racers, Lassiter led her, his grasp ever growing firmer.
"Where's Blake--and--and Jerb ?" she asked, haltingly.
"I don't know where Jerb is.

Bolted, most likely," replied Lassiter, as he took her through the stone door.

"But Blake--poor Blake! He's gone forever!...