The eyes of Beaudry met those of Beulah.  It seemed to him that her lip curled contemptuously.  She had been witness of his degradation, had seen him show the white feather.  A pulse of shame beat in his throat.

“W-w-what are you doing here?” he asked wretchedly.

Dave answered for her.  “Isn’t she always on the job when she’s needed?  Yore fairy godmother—­that’s what Miss Beulah Rutherford is.  Rode hell-for-leather down here to haid off that coyote there—­and done it, too.  Bumped into me at the water-hole and I hopped on that Blacky hawss behind her.  He brought us in on the jump and Sharp’s old reliable upset Meldrum’s apple cart.”

Still nursing the tips of his tingling fingers, the ex-convict scowled venomously at Beulah.  “I’ll remember that, missie.  That’s twice you’ve interfered with me.  I sure will learn you to mind yore own business.”

Dingwell looked steadily at him.  “We’ve heard about enough from you.  Beat it!  Hit the trail!  Pull yore freight!  Light out! Vamos!  Git!”

The man-killer glared at him.  For a moment he hesitated.  He would have liked to try conclusions with the cattleman to a fighting finish, but though he had held his own in many a rough-and-tumble fray, he lacked the unflawed nerve to face this man with the cold gray eye and the chilled-steel jaw.  His fury broke in an impotent curse as he slouched away.

“I don’t understand yet,” pursued Roy.  “How did Miss Rutherford know that Meldrum was coming here?”

“Friend Hart rode up to tell Tighe we were here.  He met Meldrum close to the school-house.  The kids were playing hide-and-go-seek.  One of them was lying right back of a big rock beside the road.  He heard Dan swear he was coming down to stop yore clock, son.  The kid went straight to teacher soon as the men had ridden off.  He told what Meldrum had said.  So, of course, Miss Beulah she sent the children home and rode down to the hawss ranch to get her father or one of her brothers.  None of them were at home and she hit the trail alone to warn us.”

“I knew my people would be blamed for what this man did, so I blocked him,” explained the girl with her habitual effect of hostile pride.

“You said you would let Tighe have his way next time, but you don’t need to apologize for breaking yore word, Miss Beulah,” responded Dingwell with his friendly smile.  “All we’ve got to say is that you’ve got chalked up against us an account we’ll never be able to pay.”

The color beat into her cheeks.  She was both embarrassed and annoyed.  With a gesture of impatience she turned away and walked to Blacky.  Lithely she swung to the saddle.

Mrs. Hart had come to the porch.  In her harassed countenance still lingered the remains of good looks.  The droop at the corners of her mouth suggested a faint resentment against a fate which had stolen her youth without leaving the compensations of middle life.