icture of a motherly
woman in a little farmhouse back in Kansas, and Eddie realized that this
man, this outlaw, had been the means of arousing within him a desire and
a determination to return again to those loving arms. Too, the man had
saved his mother from injury, and possible death.

Eddie shut his eyes quickly and thought hard and fast. Miss Barbara
had always been kind to him. In his boyish heart he had loved her,
hopelessly of course, in a boyish way. She wanted the outlaw to escape.
Eddie realized that he would do anything that Miss Barbara wanted, even
if he had to risk his life at it.

The girl and the man were at the door. She pushed him through ahead of
her while she kept the revolver leveled upon Eddie, then she passed out
after him and closed the door, while Eddie Shorter kept his eyes tightly
closed and prayed to his God that Billy Byrne might get safely away.

Outside and in the rear of the office building Barbara pressed the
revolver upon Billy.

"You will need it," she said. "There is Brazos--take him. God bless and
guard you, Billy!" and she was gone.

Billy swallowed bard. He wanted to run after her and take her in his
arms; but he recalled Bridge, and with a sigh turned toward the patient
Brazos. Languidly he gathered up the reins and mounted, and then
unconcernedly as though he were an honored guest departing by daylight
he rode out of the ranchyard and turned Brazos' head north up the river
road.

And as Billy disappeared in the darkness toward the north Barbara
Harding walked slowly toward the ranchhouse, while from a little group
of men and horses a hundred yards away three men detached themselves
and crept toward her, for they had seen her in the moonlight as she left
Billy outside the office and strolled slowly in the direction of the
house.

They hid in the shadow at the side of the house until the girl had
turned the corner and was approaching the veranda, then they ran quickly
forward and as she mounted the steps she was seized from behind and
dragged backward. A hand was clapped over her mouth and a whispered
threat warned her to silence.

Half dragging and half carrying her the three men bore her back to where
their confederates awaited them. A huge fellow mounted his pony and
Barbara was lifted to the horn of the saddle before him. Then the others
mounted and as silently as they had come they rode away, following the
same path.

Barbara Harding had not cried out nor attempted