"To keep you from going to the mill." There was an answering fierceness in her eyes.
"Well, you are not going to." He brushed her aside.
"I am." She was again in his path.
He took hold of her almost harshly.
"Don't be a fool."
"Am I? Listen." There was the glint of steel on steel in the meeting eyes. Echoing shots dulled by distance yet smote plainly on their ears. "Morrison's men are guarding the trail. They are in the cañon. You can't get through."
Firmstone's eyes softened as he looked into hers. The set line broke for an instant, then he looked down the trail. Suddenly he spun around on his heel, wavered, then sank to the ground.
Élise dropped on her knees beside him, mumbling inaudible words with husky voice. The hands that loosened the reddening collar of his shirt were firm and decided. She did not hear the grate of Zephyr's shoes. She was only conscious of other hands putting hers aside. His knife cut the clothes that hid the wound. Zephyr took his hat from his head.
"Water," he said, holding out the hat.
Élise returned from the brook with the brimming hat. The closed eyes opened at the cooling drops.