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out of the Pass before there was any chance of riders coming



down. They gained the break as the first red rays of the rising

sun colored the rim.



For once, so eager was he to get up to level ground, he did not

send Ring or Whitie in advance. Encouraging Bess to hurry pulling



at his patient, plodding burro, he climbed the soft, steep

trail.



Brighter and brighter grew the light. He mounted the last broken

edge of rim to have the sun-fired, purple sage-slope burst upon



him as a glory. Bess panted up to his side, tugging on the halter

of her burro.



"We're up!" he cried, joyously. "There's not a dot on the sage

We're safe. We'll not be seen! Oh, Bess--"



Ring growled and sniffed the keen air and bristled. Venters

clutched at his rifle. Whitie sometimes made a mistake, but Ring



never. The dull thud of hoofs almost deprived Venters of power to

turn and see from where disaster threatened. He felt his eyes



dilate as he stared at Lassiter leading Black Star and Night out

of the sage, with Jane Withersteen, in rider's costume, close



beside them.

For an instant Venters felt himself whirl dizzily in the center



of vast circles of sage. He recovered partially, enough to see

Lassiter standing with a glad smile and Jane riveted in



astonishment.

"Why, Bern!" she exclaimed. "How good it is to see you! We're



riding away, you see. The storm burst--and I'm a ruined

woman!...I thought you were alone."



Venters, unable to speak for consternation, and bewildered out of

all sense of what he ought or ought not to do, simply stared at



Jane.

"Son, where are you bound for?" asked Lassiter.



"Not safe--where I was. I'm--we're going out of Utah--back East,"

he found tongue to say.



"I reckon this meetin's the luckiest thing that ever happened to

you an' to me--an' to Jane--an' to Bess," said Lassiter, coolly.



"Bess!" cried Jane, with a sudden leap of blood to her pale

cheek.



It was entirely beyond Venters to see any luck in that

meeting.



Jane Withersteen took one flashing, woman's glance at Bess's

scarlet face, at her slender, shapely form.



"Venters! is this a girl--a woman?" she questioned, in a voice

that stung.



"Yes."

"Did you have her in that wonderful valley?"



"Yes, but Jane--"

"All the time you were gone?"



"Yes, but I couldn't tell--"

"Was it for her you asked me to give you supplies? Was it for her



that you wanted to make your valley a

paradise?"



"Oh--Jane--"

"Answer me."



"Yes."

"Oh, you liar!" And with these passionate" target="_blank" title="a.易动情的;易怒的">passionate words Jane Withersteen



succumbed to fury. For the second time in her life she fell into

the ungovernable rage that had been her father's weakness. And it



was worse than his, for she was a jealous woman--jealous even of

her friends. As best he could, he bore the brunt of her anger. It



was not only his deceit to her that she visited upon him, but her

betrayal by religion, by life itself.



Her passion, like fire at white heat, consumed itself in little

time. Her physical strength failed, and still her spirit



attempted to go on in magnificent denunciation of those who had

wronged her. Like a tree cut deep into its roots, she began to



quiver and shake, and her anger weakened into despair. And her

ringing voice sank into a broken, husky whisper. Then, spent and



pitiable, upheld by Lassiter's arm, she turned and hid her face

in Black Star's mane.



Numb as Venters was when at length Jane Withersteen lifted her

head and looked at him, he yet suffered a pang.



"Jane, the girl is innocent!" he cried.

"Can you expect me to believe that?" she asked, with weary,



bitter eyes.

"I'm not that kind of a liar. And you know it. If I lied--if I



kept silent when honor should have made me speak, it was to spare




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