s,
receptive for any bit of understanding which might be vouchsafed him.
He was satisfied with his position in the shadows; glad when Escobar
stepped out so that the lamp light from within streamed across his
face. Actually the man's hard eyes gloated.

It was only a moment until Ramorez returned, another man riding knee
and knee with him, a led horse following them. It was this animal and
its rider that held Kendric's eyes. In the saddle was what appeared a
weary little figure, drooping forward, clutching miserably at the horn
of the saddle with both hands. As she came nearer and there was more
light he saw the bowed head, made out that it was hatless, even saw how
the hair was all tumbled and ready to fall about her shoulders.

"You will get down, senorita." It was Escobar's voice, gloating like
his eyes.

The listless figure in the saddle made no reply, seemed bereft of any
volition of its own. As Ramorez put up his hands to help her, she came
down stiffly and stood stiffly, looking about her. Kendric, to see
better, came on emerging from the shadows and stood, leaning against
the wall, drawing slowly at his cigar and awaiting the end of the
scene. So now, for the first time, he saw the girl's face as she
lifted it to look despairingly around.

"Oh," she cried suddenly, a catch in her voice, throwing out her two
arms toward Escobar. "Please, please let me go!"

The hair was falling about her face; she shook it back, still standing
with her arms outflung imploringly. Kendric frowned. The girl was too
fair for a Mexican; her hair in the lamp light was less dark than black
and might well be brown; her speech was the speech of one of his own
country.

"An American girl!" he marveled. "These dirty devils have laid their
hands on an American girl! And just a kid, at that."

With her hair down, with a trembling "Please" upon her lips, she did
not look sixteen.

"I am so tired," she begged; "I am so frightened. Won't you let me go?
Please?"

Kendric fully expected her to break into tears, so heartbroken was her
attitude, so halting were her few supplicating words. A spurt of anger
flared up in his heart; to be harsh with her was like hurting a child.
And yet he held resolutely back from interference. As yet no rude hand
was being laid on her and it would be better if she went into the house
quietly than if he should raise a flurry of wild hope in her frightened
breast and evoke an outpouring of te