Joe, alert, calm-eyed, cool-witted, waited for him with a hand upraised to catch his wrist, with muscles braced to meet the fierce attack.

Madge rushed to the window, calling loudly:  “Colonel!  Mr. Frank!”

But Holton and Joe Lorey were, by that time, locked in a desperate grip and struggling with the energy of men battling for their lives.  Twisting and straining, each striving with the last ounce of energy within him to get the better of the other, they plunged across the room and out into the hall.

Just as Frank and the Colonel hurried in, a shot was heard and then a heavy fall.  An instant later Joe came to the door.

“Heaven’s will are done!” he said, quite simply.

Layson rushed toward him, but paused, aghast, looking off through the open door.  “Joe, you’ve killed him!” he exclaimed.

“An’ I had a right!” said Joe, now strangely calm.  “When he killed my father it were ordained that he should fall by my hands.  I ain’t afeared to stand my trial.”

“The men outside have promised,” Layson said, dismayed by this new and terrible complication, “that you shall have a fair trial on the other charge.  They’ve gone, now, for the sheriff.  But this charge,” he looked toward the door which led into the hall, “will be more serious!”

“I can clear him of ’em both,” said Madge.  “I’ll sw’ar th’ killin’ was in self-defense; I’ll sw’ar that Holton owned, before me, that he saw Joe leave th’ stable afore th’ fire.”

“He saw him!” exclaimed Frank, astonished.  “What was Holton doing there?”

“Oh, don’t you see?” said Madge.  “He war your enemy—­th’ man as told Joe th’ lie ag’in you in th’ mountings, th’ man as tried to burn Queen Bess.”

The Colonel had entered, quickly, from the gallery, and stood listening, amazed and fascinated.  Now, after a moment’s pause to think the matter out, he advanced to Joe with outstretched hand.  For the man who had been guilty of that vile mischief he felt no regret, for the man who had, in a fair fight and with good reason, shot him down, he felt full sympathy.  “Tried to burn Queen Bess!” he cried.  “Joe, the jury’ll clear you without leaving their seats!  Come, my boy—­the sheriff’s here, and you will have to go with him; but don’t you worry.  I’ll see you through.”

Joe stood, thinking, with bowed head and frowning brow.  Suddenly he looked up and cast his eyes about upon the company.  “Before I goes, I wants to say a word to Madge,” said he, and turned to her with an impressive earnestness.  “Little one, don’t you never fret about me, no more.”  He took her hand and she gave it to him gladly.  “I see, now, as you was never made for me.”  He took a step toward Frank and led her to him.  “I see whar your heart is, an’ I puts your hand in his.”  With bowed head he relinquished the brown hand of the mountain-girl whom he had loved since childhood, to the outstretched hand of the young “foreigner,” whom he no longer looked at with the hatred which had so long thrilled his heart.  “And—­now I says good-bye.  God bless you both!”