The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine

to the caon's edge in this luminous dusk that Melissy became aware of a distant figure on horseback, silhouetted for a moment against the skyline. One glance was all she got of it, for she was very busy with the sheep, working them leisurely toward the black chasm that seemed to yawn for them. High rock walls girt the caon, gigantic and bottomless in the gloom. A dizzy trail zigzagged back and forth to the pool below, and along this she and the collie skilfully sent the eager, thirsty animals.

      The mass of the sheep were still huddled on the edge of the ravine when there came the thud of horses' hoofs and the crack of revolvers, accompanied by hoarse, triumphant yells and cries. Melissy knew instantly what it was--the attack of cattlemen upon her defenseless flock. They had waited until the sheep were on the edge of the precipice, and now they were going to drive the poor creatures down upon the rocks two hundred feet below. Her heart leaped to her throat, but scarce more quickly than she upon a huge boulder bordering the trail.

      "Back! Keep back!" she heard herself crying, and even as she spoke a bullet whistled through the rim of her felt hat.

      Standing there boldly, unconscious of danger, the wind draped and defined the long lines of her figure like those of the Winged Victory.

      The foremost rider galloped past, waving his sombrero and shooting into the frightened mass in front of him. Within a dozen feet of her he turned his revolver upon the girl, then, with an oath of recognition, dragged his pony back upon its haunches. Another horse slithered into it, and a third.

      "It's 'Lissie Lee!" a voice cried in astonishment; and another, with a startled oath, "You're right, Bob!"

      The first rider gave his pony the spur, swung it from the trail in a half-circle which brought it back at the very edge of the ravine, and blocked the forward pour of terror-stricken sheep. Twice his revolver rang out. The girl's heart stood still, for the man was Norris, and it seemed for an instant as if he must be swept over the precipice by the stampede. The leaders braced themselves to stop, but were slowly pushed forward toward the edge. One of the other riders had by this time joined the daring cowpuncher, and together they stemmed the tide. The pressure on the trail relaxed and the sheep began to mill around and around.

      It was many minutes before they were sufficiently quieted to trust upon the trail again, but at last the men got them safely to the bottom, with the exception of two or three killed in the descent.

      Her responsibility for the safety of the sheep gone, the girl began to crawl down the dark trail. She could not see a yard in front of her, and at each step the path seemed to end in a gulf of darkness. She could not be sure she was on the trail at all, and her nerve was shaken by the experience through which she had just passed. Presently she stopped and waited, for the first time in her life definitely and physically afraid. She stood there trembling, a long, long time it seemed to her, surrounded by the impenetrable blackness of night.

      Then a voice came to her.

      "Melissy!"

      She answered, and the voice came slowly nearer.

      "You're off the trail," it told her presently, just before a human figure defined itself in the gloom.

      "I'm afraid," she sobbed.

      A strong hand came from nowhere and caught hers. An arm slipped around her waist.

      "Don't be afraid, little girl. I'll see no harm comes to you," the man said to her with a quick, fierce tenderness.

      The comfort of his support was unspeakable. It stole into her heart like water to the roots of thirsty plants. To feel her head against his shoulder, to know he held her tight, meant safety and life. He had told her not to be afraid, and she was so no longer.

      "You shot at me," she murmured in reproach.

      "I didn't know. We thought it was Bellamy's herd. But it's true, God forgive me! I did."

      There was in his voice the warm throb of emotion, and in his eyes something she had never seen before in those of any human being. Like stars they were, swimming in light, glowing with the exultation of the triumph he was living. She was a splendid young animal, untaught of life, generous, passionate, tempestuous, and as her pliant, supple body lay against his some sex instinct old as creation stirred potently within her. She had found her mate. It came to her as innocently as the same impulse comes to the doe when the spring freshets are seeking the river, and as innocently her lips met his in their first kiss of surrender. Something irradiated her, softened her, warmed her. Was it love? She did not know, but as yet she was still happy in the glow of it.

      Slowly, hand in hand, they worked back to the trail and down it to the bottom of the caon. The soft velvet night enwrapped them. It shut them from the world and left them one to one. From the meeting palms strange electric currents tingled through the girl and flushed her to an ecstasy of emotion.

      A camp fire was already burning cheerfully when they reached the base of the descent. A man came forward to meet them. He glanced curiously at the girl after she came within the circle of light. Her eyes were shining as from some inner glow, and she was warm with a soft color that vitalized her beauty. Then his gaze passed to take in with narrowed lids her companion.

      "I see you found her," he said dryly.

      "Yes, I found her, Bob."

      He answered the spirit of Farnum's words rather than the letter of them, nor could he keep out of his bearing and his handsome face the exultation that betrayed success.

      "H'mp!" Farnum turned from him and addressed the girl: "I suppose Norris has explained our mistake and eaten crow for all of us, Miss Lee. I don't see how come we to make such a blame' fool mistake. It was gitting dark, and we took your skirt for a greaser's blanket. It's ce'tainly on us."

      "Yes, he has explained."

      "Well, there won't any amount of explaining square the thing. We might 'a' done you a terrible injury, Miss Lee. It was gilt-edged luck for us that you thought to jump on that rock and holler."

      "I was thinking of the sheep," she said.

      "Well, you saved them, and I'm right glad of it. We ain't got any use for Mary's little trotter, but your father's square about his. He keeps them herded up on his own range. We may not like it, but we ce'tainly aren't going to the length of attackin' his herd." Farnum's gaze took in her slender girlishness, and he voiced the question in his mind. "How in time do you happen to be sheep-herding all by your lone a thousand miles from nowhere, Miss Lee?"

      She explained the circumstances after she had moved forward to warm herself by the fire. For already night was bringing a chill breeze with it. The man cooking the coffee looked up and nodded pleasantly, continuing his work. Norris dragged up a couple of saddle blankets and spread them on the ground for her to sit upon.

      "You don't have to do a thing but boss this outfit," he told her with his gay smile. "You're queen of the range to-night, and we're your herders or your punchers, whichever you want to call us. To-morrow morning two of us are going to drive these sheep on to the trading post for you, and the other one is going to see you safe back home. It's all arranged."

      They were as good as his word. She could not move from her place to help herself. It was their pleasure to wait upon her as if she had really been a queen and they her subjects. Melissy was very tired, but she enjoyed their deference greatly. She was still young enough to find delight in the fact that three young and more or less good-looking men were vying with each other to anticipate her needs.

      Like them, she ate and drank ravenously of the sandwiches and the strong coffee, though before the meal was over she found herself nodding drowsily. The tactful courtesy of these rough fellows was perfect. They got the best they had for her of their blankets, dragged a pion root to feed the glowing coals, and with cheerful farewells of "_Buenos Noches_" retired around a bend in the caon and lit another fire for themselves.

      The girl snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets and stretched her weary limbs in delicious rest. She did not mean to go to sleep for a long time. She had much to think about. So she looked up the black sheer caon walls to the deep blue, starry sky above, and relived her day in memory.

      A