what jessamy selden told oliver drew of the poison oakers was about the same as he had heard from damon tamroy.

she used his sawbuck for a seat, and sat with one booted ankle resting on a knee, idly spinning the rowel of her spur as she talked. oliver listened without interruption until she finished and once more levelled that straightforward glance at him.

"the cows have been down below on winter pasture," she added. "adam selden and the boys rode out yesterday to start the spring drive into the foothills. you'll awake some morning soon to find red cattle all about you, and they'll be here till august."

"well," he said, "i don't know that i shall mind them. my fence is pretty fair, and with a little more repairing will turn them, i think."

she twirled her rowel in silence for a time, her eyes fixed on it. then she said:

"it isn't that, mr. drew. i may as well tell you right now what i came down here purposely to tell you. you're not wanted here. all of this land has been abandoned so long that adam selden and the gang have come to consider it their property—or at least free range."

"but they'll respect my right of ownership."

"i don't know—i don't know. i'm afraid they won't. they're a law unto themselves down in here. they'll try to run you out."

"how?"

"any way—every way. if nothing else occurs to them, they'll begin a studied system of persecution with the idea of making you so sick of your bargain that you'll pull stakes and hit the trail. that poor man dodd! mr. tamroy told me you happened into the saloon in time to see the shooting. wasn't it terrible! and how they persecuted him—fairly drove him into the rash act that cost him his life!"

she lifted her glance again. "mr. tamroy tells me that you were shocked at me that day."

"i guess i didn't fully understand the circumstances."

"i did," she firmly declared, her lips setting in what would have been a grim smile but for the dimples that came with it. "i understood the situation," she went on. "digger foss had been waiting for just that chance. there's just enough indian and chinese blood in him to make him a fatalist. he's therefore deadly. has no fear of death. he's cruel, merciless. i knew when i saw henry dodd covering him with that gun that, if he didn't finish what he'd started, he was a dead man. he couldn't even have backed off gracefully, keeping digger covered, and got away alive. digger is so quick on the draw, and his aim is so deadly. he's a master gunman. even had dodd succeeded in getting away then, he would have been a marked man. he had thrown down on digger foss. digger would have got the drop on him next time they met and killed him as you would a coyote. so in my excitement i rushed in with my well meant warning, and—oh, it was horrible!"

"and you meant actually for dodd to kill foss?"

her black eyes dilated, and an angry flush blended with the tan on her cheeks.

"it was one or the other of them," she told him coldly. "mr. dodd was an honest, plodding man—a good citizen. foss is a renegade. was i so very bloodthirsty in trying to make the best of a bad situation by choosing, on the spur of the moment, which man ought to live on? i'm not the fainting kind of woman, mr. drew. one must be practical, if he can, even over matters like that."

"i'm not condemning," he said. "i'm only wondering that a woman could be so practical in such a situation."

"digger foss hasn't seen me since then," she observed. "he's in jail, awaiting trial, at the county seat. he'll be acquitted, of course. i'm wondering what he'll have to say to me when he is free again."

oliver said nothing to this.

"i must be going," she declared, rising suddenly. "as i said, i came down to warn you to be on your guard against the poison oakers."

he caught her pony and led it to her. she swung into the saddle, then slued toward him, leaned an elbow on the horn and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. once more that direct gaze of her frank black eyes looked him through and through.

"well," she asked, "will the poison oakers run you off?"

"oh, i think not," he laughed lightly.

"they'll be ten against one, mr. drew."

"there's law in the land."

"yes, there's law," she mused. "but it's so easy for unscrupulous people to get around the law. they can subject you to no end of persecution, and you won't even be able to prove that one of them is behind it."

she looked him over deliberately.

"i'm glad you've come," she said. "you're an educated man, and blessed with a higher order of character than has been anybody else who stood to cross the poison oakers. somehow, i feel that you are destined to be their undoing. they must be corralled and their atrocities brought to an end. you must be the one to put the quietus on that gang. and i'll help you. good-bye!"

she lifted the white mare into a lope, opened the gate, rode through and closed it without leaving the saddle, then, waving back at him, disappeared in the chaparral.