harply. "I'd hoped you would
let us get acquainted first. But if you won't, all right.... You've
been frightened into a deal that is terrible for you. No wonder. But
you're only a kid yet. What do you know of men? These Hardmans are
crooked. They pulled out of Texas because they were crooked.
Matthews, magistrate or marshal, whatever he calls himself, he's
crooked too. I _know_ such men. I've met a hundred of them. Slowly
they've been forced farther west, beyond the Rockies. And here they
work their will. But it can't last. Why, Lucy, I'm amazed that some
miner or cowboy or gun-fighter hasn't stopped them long ago."

"Pan, you must be wrong," she declared, earnestly. "Hardman cheated
Dad, yes. But that was only Dad's fault. His blindness in business.
Hardman is a power here. And Matthews, too. You talk like a--a wild
cowboy."

"Sure," replied Pan, with a grim laugh. "And it'll take just a wild
cowboy to clean up this mess.... Now Lucy, don't go white and sick. I
promise you I'll listen to Dad and you before I make a move. I'll go
to see your father. And I'll call on Hardman. I'll talk sense and
reason, and business to these men. I know it'll not amount to beans,
but I'll do it just to show you I can be deliberate and sane."

"Thank you--you frightened me so," she murmured. "Pan, there was
something terrible about you--then."

"Listen, Lucy," he began, more seriously. "I've been here in Marco
only a few hours. But this country is no place for us to settle down
to live. It's mostly a mining country. I've heard a lot about
Arizona. I'm going to take you all down there. Dad and Mother will
love the idea. I'll get your father out of jail--"

"Pan, are you dreaming?" she interrupted, in distress. "Dad is a
rustler. He admits it. Back in Texas he can be jailed for years. All
Hardman has to do is to send for officers to come take Dad. And I've
got to marry Dick Hardman to save him."

"You poor little girl! ... Now Lucy, let me tell you something funny.
This will stagger you. Because it's gospel truth, I swear.... Rustler
you call your dad. What's that? It means a cowman who has
appropriated cattle not his own. He has driven off unbranded stock and
branded it. There's no difference. Lucy, my dad rustled cattle. So
have all the ranchers I ever rode for."

"Pan!" she gasped, with dilating eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm trying to tell you one of the queer facts about the