"Not a scratch," he said. "Thanks to you."
In her relief she grasped his arm and gave it a fierce little squeeze.
"Then it's all right," she said.
Waddles burst from the door of the burning house, his arms piled high with salvage.
"We'll save what we can," Harris said and started for the house. As he ran the valley rocked with a concussion which nearly threw him flat and a column of fragments and trash rose a hundred feet above the spot where the head gate had been but a second past.
A dozen running horses flipped over the edge of the hill and plunged down toward the ranch. The men were back from Brill's. Tiny halted the mules on the lip of the valley and the three men came down the slope on foot.
Harris held up his hand to halt the riders as they would have kept on past the house. He knew that the raiders stationed behind the ranch had long since reached their horses and were lost in the choppy hills. He waved all hands toward the buildings and they swarmed inside, carrying out load after load of such articles as could be moved and piling them out of reach of the flames.
The girl sat apart and watched them work. Her lethargy had returned. It seemed a small matter to rescue these trinkets when the Three Bar was a total wreck. The wind fanned the flames down on the bunk house and one side was charred and smoking. The men drew back from the heat. Tiny spurts of fire flickered along the charred side. Then it burst into a sheet of flame.
Harris spoke briefly to Evans and the tall man nodded as he itemized the orders in his mind.
"Now I'll get her away from here," Harris said. "It's hell for her to just sit there and watch it burn."