rgive this action as
soon as she realized its purpose--aye! she would respect me the more for
daring the deed.

"Don't attempt to interfere now, my girl; go over to the big chair and
sit down."

My revolver was in my hand, and she saw it, her eyes wide open.

"You--you are not going to hurt them?"

"No, not if they use any sense, but this is not going to be boys' play.
Will you do as I say?"

She sat down, gripping the arms of the chair, and leaning forward, half
inclined to scream, yet afraid to utter a sound. Without taking my eyes
from her, I slipped across the room to where I would be partially
concealed as the door opened. I knew what I was going to do, or, at
least, attempt to do, and realized fully the risk I ran, and the chance
of failure. It would require daring and coolness to capture those in the
house, without raising any alarm, and likewise the prompt cooperation of
my men. If they had seen my signal, and if I could disarm these first
two, the rest should be comparatively easy. There were steps in the
hall, and the jingle of spurs. Hardy entered first, his head turned
backward as though he spoke to Le Gaire. I saw the girl rise to her
feet, but my whole attention was concentrated upon the two men. The
instant the space was sufficient, I forced the door shut, and stood with
my back against it, the black muzzle of my Colt staring them in
the eyes.

"Hands up, gentlemen!" I said sternly, "a movement means death."

They presented two astounded faces, Hardy's absolutely blank, so
complete his surprise, but Le Gaire recognized me instantly, his mouth
flying open, his eyes glaring.

"Good God!--you!"

"Yes; hands up, Le Gaire! Don't be a fool."

His dark complexion was yellow with pallor, and I knew him for a coward
at heart, yet his very hatred of me made him dangerous. Hardy was
different, realizing his helplessness, but eying me coolly, his hands
held over his head.

"What does all this mean?" he asked quietly. "Who the devil are you?"

"He's that damned Yank Billie's been so interested in," broke out the
captain, "the same fellow who knocked me off my horse at Jonesboro."

Major Hardy glanced toward his daughter inquiringly, but before she
could utter a word in explanation I cut in:

"This has nothing to do with Miss Hardy. She is as much a prisoner as
you are. Now, Captain, hand me your revolver--butt first, please. Major
Hardy, I will also trouble you. Now both of you back up slowly against