Beck raised his gun as Hilton's horse leaped for the trail. He shot but the instant of light had passed, making the world darker by contrast. They saw fire shoot from scrambling hoofs.
The burst of rain had ceased, the interval of fury broken; the storm still swirled, roaring, above them, but it was dry and black, threatening, holding in reserve its strength....
The sound of another horse, cutting in before them, running frantically, and Beck's gun hand went up only to poise arrested as a voice came to them with the singing of a rope end that flayed the animal's flanks.
"Go; go! Take me after him!"
It was Bobby Cole's cry. She had seen. She was riding on the trail of the man who would have been her betrayer.
They dismounted hastily and stooped over the figure that lay quiet on the rocks. Jane stilled her sobbing as Beck rolled the body over and felt and listened.
"Dead," he said huskily.
"Dead!" echoed Jane. "Dick killed him! Oh ... beastly!"
Fresh firing behind them. The shout of a man and an answer. More shots, coming closer.
"You've got to get out," Beck said lowly, lifting her from her knees beside the dead rider. "There'll be hell here to-night and it's no place for you. You bring the law!"