s and manners at such times
can have a force of convincing veracity that means more. Possibly, it
may have been the hypnotic quality of Saxon's eyes, but, whatever it
was, Rodman found it impossible to disbelieve him when he spoke in
this fashion. In the plaza, he had suddenly turned the scales and held
power of life and death over Rodman, and his only emotion had been
that of heart-broken misery. Carter had been, like Rodman himself, the
intriguer, but he had always been trustworthy with his friends. He had
been violent, bitter, avenging, but never mean in small ways. That
had been one of the reasons why Rodman, once convinced that the danger
of vengeance was ended, had remained almost passionately anxious to
prove to the other that he himself had not been a traitor. Carter had
been the Napoleonic adventurer, and Rodman only the pettier type. For
Carter, he held a sort of hero-worship. Rodman's methods were those of
chicane, but rightly or wrongly he believed that he could read the
human document.

If this other man were telling the truth, and if love of a woman were
his real motive, he could be stung into fury with a slur. If that were
only a pretext, the other would not allow his resentment to imperil
his plans--he would repress it, or simulate it awkwardly.

"So," he commented satirically, "it's the good-looking young female
that's got you buffaloed, is it? The warrior has been taken into camp
by the squaw." The tone held deliberate intent to insult.

Saxon's lips compressed themselves into a dangerously straight line,
and his face whitened to the temples. As he took a step forward, the
slighter man stepped quickly back, and raised a hand with a gesture of
explanation. Saxon had evidently told the truth. The revolutionist had
satisfied himself, and his somewhat erratic method of judging results
had been to his own mind convincing. And, at the same moment, Saxon
halted. He realized that he stood in a position where questions of
life and death, not his own, were involved. His anger was driving him
dangerously close to action that would send crashing to ruin the one
chance of winning an effective ally. He half-turned with something
like a groan.

He was called out of his stupor of anxiety by the voice of the other.
Rodman had been thinking fast. He would take a chance, though not such
a great chance as it would seem. Indeed, in effect, he would be taking
the other prisoner. He would in part yield to the request, bu