At this juncture Jake and Bill, with two other cowboys, strode up to Anderson.

“Another accident, boss,” said Jake, sarcastically.  “Ain’t it about time we corralled some of this outfit?”

Anderson did not reply.  He had suddenly imitated Lenore, who had become solely bent upon Dorn’s look.  That indeed was cause for interest.  It was directed at a member of the nearest group—­a man in rough garb, with slouch-hat pulled over his eyes.  As Lenore looked she saw this man, suddenly becoming aware of Dorn’s scrutiny, hastily turn and walk away.

“Hold on!” called Dorn, his voice a ringing command.  It halted every moving person on that part of the field.  Then Dorn actually bounded across the intervening space.

“Come on, boys,” said Anderson, “get in this.  Dorn’s spotted some one, an’ now that’s all we want....  Lenore, stick close behind me.  Jake, you keep near her.”

They moved hastily to back up Dorn, who had already reached the workman he had halted.  Anderson took out a whistle and blew such a shrill blast that it deafened Lenore, and must have been heard all over the harvest-field.  Not improbably that was a signal agreed upon between Anderson and his men.  Lenore gathered that all had been in readiness for a concerted movement and that her father believed Dorn’s action had brought the climax.

“Haven’t I seen you before?” queried Dorn, sharply.

The man shook his head and kept it bent a little, and then he began to edge back nearer to the stragglers, who slowly closed into a group behind him.  He seemed nervous, shifty.

“He can’t speak English,” spoke up one of them, gruffly.

Dorn looked aggressive and stern.  Suddenly his hand flashed out to snatch off the slouch-hat which hid the fellow’s face.  Amazingly, a gray wig came with it.  This man was not old.  He had fair thick hair.

For a moment Dorn gazed at the slouch-hat and wig.  Then with a fierce action he threw them down and swept a clutching hand for the man.  The fellow dodged and, straightening up, he reached for a gun.  But Dorn lunged upon him.  Then followed a hard grappling sound and a hoarse yell.  Something bright glinted in the sun.  It made a sweeping circle, belched fire and smoke.  The report stunned Lenore.  She shut her eyes and clung to her father.  She heard cries, a scuffling, sodden blows.

“Jake!  Bill!” called Anderson.  “Hold on!  No gun-play yet!  Dorn’s makin’ hash out of that fellow....  But watch the others sharp!”

Then Lenore looked again.  Dorn had twisted the man around and was in the act of stripping off the further disguise of beard, disclosing the pale and convulsed face of a comparatively young man.

"Glidden!" burst out Dorn.  His voice had a terrible ring of furious amaze.  His whole body seemed to gather as in a knot and then to spring.  The man called Glidden went down before that onslaught, and his gun went flying aside.