the graceful dark-eyed girl who had given him and his comrade many a
welcome meal when their duty took them near her brother's homestead.
That was, however, before one black day for Ailly and Larry Blake when
Lance Courthorne also rode that way.

"Yes," said the lad from Ontario, "I was driving in for the stores when
I met him in the willow bluff, an' Courthorne pulls his divil of a
black horse up with as little ugly smile on the lips of him when I
swung the wagon right across the trail.

"'That's not civil, trooper,' says he.

"'I'm wanting a word,' says I, with the black hate choking me at the
sight of him. 'What have ye done with Ailly?'

"'Is it anything to you?' says he.

"'It's everything,' says I. 'And if ye will not tell me I'll tear it
out of ye.'

"Courthorne laughs a little, but I saw the divil in his eyes. 'I don't
think you're quite man enough,' says he, sitting very quiet on the big
black horse. 'Any way, I can't tell you where she is just now because
she left the dancing saloon she was in down in Montana when I last saw
her.'

"I had the big whip that day, and I forgot everything as I heard the
hiss of it round my shoulder. It came home across the ugly face of
him, and then I flung it down and grabbed the carbine as he swung the
black around with one hand fumbling in his jacket. It came out empty,