olver swung around in another seemingly careless gesture.
Pete and the wounded Navaho hogtied Lennon with expert quickness.

Slade shifted around to nudge Farley in the ribs with the toe of his
cowhide boot. The badly wounded man stirred and opened his haggard eyes
to blink at the disturber.

"Has--Cochise---- What! you?" he murmured. "You have run off the devils?
Girls safe?"

"You bet they're safe, Dad. How you feeling? Looks like they plugged you
pretty bad."

"Very--very bad," gasped Farley. "I--do not expect to--survive."

"Aw, keep a stiff upper lip. You'll pull through."

Farley's discoloured eyelids quivered and drooped. Slade had been
peering sideways at the rigidly posed Carmena. He laughed
good-humouredly, put up his revolver, and grinned toward Elsie.

"I smell grub--real grub. Carmena, you git over to the far window and
keep a lookout while I feed up. Just leave your gun lie. We don't want
to rile up Cochise till we git him cornered."

The girl looked at Lennon and hesitated. Slade rested his hand on his
hip. She hurried off to the window toward which he had pointed.

Seated alone at the table, the trader feasted upon the food set before
him by Elsie. While he gormandized he tormented the shrinking girl with
his coarse gallantry. When at last his gluttonous appetite was satisfied
he called for another pie. Elsie obediently brought the last of her
baking and bent over the corner of the table to set it before him.

With the quickness of a striking grizzly, Slade lunged forward and
clutched her soft round arm. At her startled shriek he wrenched his
massive body half around and menaced everyone in the room with a
sweeping wave of his revolver.

Lennon had been bound too tightly to do more than writhe. Pete and his
fellow Navaho stood as if turned to stone. But Farley had twisted about
on the floor, and Carmena was springing away from her outlook window
toward the table. The revolver barrel paused in line with her
forward-rushing figure.

"Stop!" bellowed Slade.

The savage roar threatened instant death. Carmena came to a sudden halt.
She stood panting and quivering, her face white, her eyes dilated with
horror.

"Huh! Thought you'd rush me, did you?" growled the trader. "You didn't
stop any too soon to save your bacon, you she-wildcat. Stand still now,
or you'll git gentled with a club."

"But--but, Mr. Slade----" gasped the horror-stricken girl.
"Blossom--she's only a child. She's so young a