“Fate is against me,” said John Mark in his quiet way.  “Why should this dare-devil be destined to hunt me?  I can gain nothing by his death but your hate.  And, if he succeeds in breaking through Lefty, as he has broken through Kruger, even then he shall win nothing.  I swear it!”

As he spoke he looked at her in gloomy resolution, but the girl was on fire—­fear and joy were fighting in her face.  In her ecstasy she was clinging to the man beside her.

“Think of it—­think of it!” she exclaimed.  “He has done what I said he would do.  Ah, I read his mind!  Ronicky Doone, Ronicky Doone, was there ever your like under the wide, wide sky?  He’s brushed Kruger out of his way—­”

“Not entirely,” said John Mark calmly, “not entirely, you see?”

As he spoke they heard again the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot, and then another and another, ringing from the place where the two hills leaned over the road.

“It’s Kruger,” declared John Mark calmly.  “That chivalrous idiot, Doone, apparently shot him down and didn’t wait to finish him.  Very clever work on his part, but very sloppy.  However, he seems to have wounded Kruger so badly that my gunman can’t hit his mark.”

For Ronicky Doone, if it were indeed he, was still galloping down the road, more and more clearly discernible, while the rifle firing behind him ceased.

“Of course that firing will be the alarm for Lefty,” went on John Mark, seeming to enjoy the spectacle before him, as if it were a thing from which he was entirely detached.  “And Lefty can make his choice.  Kruger was his pal.  If he wants to revenge the fall of Kruger he may shoot from behind a tree.  If not, he’ll shoot from the open, and it will be an even fight.”

The terror of it all, the whole realization, sprang up in the girl.  In a moment she was crying:  “Stop him, John—­for Heaven’s sake, find a way to stop him.”

“There is only one power that can turn the trick, I’m afraid,” answered John Mark.  “That power is Lefty.”

“If he shoots Lefty he’ll come straight toward us on his way to the house, and if he sees you—­”

“If he sees me he’ll shoot me, of course,” declared Mark.

She stared at him.  “John,” she said, “I know you’re brave, but you won’t try to face him?”

“I’m fairly expert with a gun.”  He added:  “But it’s good of you to be concerned about me.”

“I am concerned, more than concerned, John.  A woman has premonitions, and I tell you I know, as well as I know I’m standing here, that if you face Ronicky Doone you’ll go down.”

“You’re right,” replied Mark.  “I fear that I have been too much of a specialist, so I shall not face Doone.”

“Then start for the house—­and hurry!”

“Run away and leave you here?”

The dust cloud and the figure of the rider in it were sweeping rapidly down on the grove in the hollow, where Lefty waited.  And the girl was torn between three emotions:  Joy at the coming of the adventurer, fear for him, terror at the thought of his meeting with Mark.