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"The house is full of Taggart's friends!" Deveril cried sharply, warning her and, at the same time, thinking for himself.

But already she was running again. She ran out into the road; but there the brisk-burning bonfires made night into day. She dodged back into the shadow cast by the corner of the house, and ran about to the rear. Deveril hesitated only an instant; men were already rushing in from the room where they had been drinking. He followed her through the door, and here again he paused. Men were already stooping over the sheriff; he heard one cry out the single word, "Dead!" His brain caught fire. The girl had killed Timber Wolf; he had killed Jim Taggart. He and she were fugitives. He followed her again into the shadows, running to the back of the house.

And as he ran one thing angered him: He had won three thousand dollars from Bruce Standing, and that three thousand dollars was at this moment in Standing's pocket. And being Babe Deveril, who dared at least as far as most men dare, he meant to have what fortune allowed him.