Three of Glidden’s group started for it.  The cowboy Bill leaped forward, a gun in each hand.  “Hyar!...  Back!” he yelled.  And then all except the two struggling principals grew rigid.

Lenore’s heart was burning in her throat.  The movements of Dorn were too swift for her sight.  But Glidden she saw handled as if by a giant.  Up and down he seemed thrown, with bloody face, flinging arms, while he uttered hoarse bawls.  Dorn’s form grew more distinct.  It plunged and swung in frenzied energy.  Lenore heard men running and yells from all around.  Her father spread wide his arm before her, so that she had to bend low to see.  He shouted a warning.  Jake was holding a gun thrust forward.

“Boss, he’s goin’ to kill Glidden!” said the cowboy, in a low tone.

Anderson’s reply was incoherent, but its meaning was plain.

Lenore’s lips and tongue almost denied her utterance.  “Oh!...  Don’t let him!”

The crowd behind the wrestling couple swayed back and forth, and men changed places here and there.  Bill strode across the space, guns leveled.  Evidently this action was due to the threatening movements of several workmen who crouched as if to leap on Dorn as he whirled in his fight with Glidden.

“Wal, it’s about time!” yelled Anderson, as a number of lean, rangy men, rushing from behind, reached Bill’s side, there to present an armed and threatening front.

All eyes now centered on Dorn and Glidden.  Lenore, seeing clearly for the first time, suffered a strange, hot paroxysm of emotion never before experienced by her.  It left her weak.  It seemed to stultify the cry that had been trying to escape her.  She wanted to scream that Dorn must not kill the man.  Yet there was a ferocity in her that froze the cry.  Glidden’s coat and blouse were half torn off; blood covered him; he strained and flung himself weakly in that iron clutch.  He was beaten and bent back.  His tongue hung out, bloody, fluttering with strangled cries.  A ghastly face, appalling in its fear of death!

Lenore broke her mute spell of mingled horror and passion.

“For God’s sake, don’t let Dorn kill him!” she implored.

“Why not?” muttered Anderson.  “That’s Glidden.  He killed Dorn’s father—­burned his wheat—­ruined him!”

“Dad—­for my—­sake!” she cried brokenly.

“Jake, stop him!” yelled Anderson.  “Pull him off!”

As Lenore saw it, with eyes again half failing her, Jake could not separate Dorn from his victim.

“Leggo, Dorn!” he yelled.  “You’re cheatin’ the gallows!...Hey, Bill, he’s a bull!...  Help, hyar—­quick!”

Lenore did not see the resulting conflict, but she could tell by something that swayed the crowd when Glidden had been freed.

“Hold up this outfit!” yelled Anderson to his men.  “Come on, Jake, drag him along.”  Jake appeared, leading the disheveled and wild-eyed Dorn.  “Son, you did my heart good, but there was some around here who didn’t want you to spill blood.  An’ that’s well.  For I am seein’ red....Jake, you take Dorn an’ Lenore a piece toward the house, then hurry back.”