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turned to Cole.
    "Was it a fair fight?"
    "Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting.
Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other.
Then they drew—only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell.
That trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on
the draw."
    "Where's Snap now?"
    "Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's
friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with
young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he
swears you won't take Hare away."
    "We're all packed and ready to hitch up," returned Naab. "We could start
at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the
trail."
    "Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare."
    "No. He wouldn't dare."
    "Father!" Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy
bank. "Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't
know. They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!"
    A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a
black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of
the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with
the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant.
    "What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" challenged August Naab,
planting his broad bulk square before Hare.
    "Dene's spy!"
    "What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" repeated Naab.
    "I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about," returned
Dene, his smile slowly fading.
    "No speech could be a lie to an outlaw."
    "I want him, you Mormon preacher!"
    "You can't have him."
    "I'll shore get him."
    In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene.
    The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and back
again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act was
even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the outlaw
cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp.
    Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching
companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip.
    August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there
with brawny arm.
    "Whelp of an evil breed!" he thundered, shaking his gray head. "Do you
think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!" He released
Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved,
quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He
dropped it back into the holster. "Let that teach you never to draw on me
again." He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes. "One
blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it?
Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there's a higher law than
man's—God's law—Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave
me and mine alone from this day. Now go!"
    He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions.
    "Out with you!" said Dave Naab. "Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not
so particular about God as Dad is!"

III - The Trail of the Red Wall
*
    AFTER the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White
Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade
him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely
met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole
said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the
trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and
the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open
wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain.
When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man vaulted
the cottage fence.
    "Dave, where are the boys?" asked Naab.
    "Not so loud! The boys are coming," replied Dave in a whisper. "Dene is
wild. I guess you snapped a bone in