She had the nerve of a man.

She had looked out upon death before.
"Yes, they're dead," she said, bitterly.

"An' how are we goin' to get their bodies ?" At this Gaston Isbel seemed to rouse from the cold spell that had transfixed him.
"God, this is hell for our women," he cried out, hoarsely.

"My son--my son! ...

Murdered by the Jorths!" Then he swore a terrible oath.
Jean saw the remainder of the mounted rustlers get off, and then, all of them leading their horses, they began to move around to the left.
"Dad, they're movin' round," said Jean.
"Up to some trick," declared Bill Isbel.
"Bill, you make a hole through the back wall, say aboot the fifth log up," ordered the father.