no danger
at this hour. If there had been Westcott would never have asked her to
come. The very recurrence of his name gave her strength and courage.
Her hands clenched with determination and she drew in a long breath,
her body straightening. Why, actually, she had been frightened of the
dark; like a child she had been peopling the void with the demons of
fancy. It struck her as so ridiculous that she actually laughed to
herself as she started straight toward the tree, which now seemed to
beckon her.

It was a rough path, sandy, interspersed with small rocks, and led down
into a gully. The tree stood on the opposite bank, which was so steep
she had to grasp its outcropping roots in order to pull herself up.
Even after gaining footing she saw nothing of Westcott, heard no sound
indicating his presence.

A coyote howled mournfully in the distance, and a stray breath of air
stirred one of the great leaves above into a startled rustling. She
crept about the gnarled trunk, every nerve aquiver, shaded her eyes
with one hand, and peered anxiously around into the gloom. Suddenly
something moved to her right, and she shrank back against the tree,
uncertain if the shapeless thing approaching was man or beast. He was
almost upon her before she was sure; then her lips gave utterance to a
little sob of relief.

"Oh! You frightened me so!"

The man stopped, scarcely a yard away, a burly figure, but with face
indistinguishable.

"Sorry to do that," he said, "but no noise, please."

She shrank back to the edge of the bank, conscious of the grip of a
great fear.

"You--you are not Mr. Westcott?" she choked. "Who are you? What is it
you want?"

The man laughed, but made no move.

"Hard luck to come out here to meet Jim, an' run up against a totally
different proposition--hey, miss?" he said grimly. "However, this
ain't goin' ter be no love affair--not yit, at least. If I wuz you I
wouldn't try makin' no run fer it; an' if yer let out a screech, I'll
hav' ter be a bit rough."

"You--you are after me?"

"Sure; you've been playin' in a game what's none o' your business. Now
I reckon it's the other party's turn to throw some cards. Thought yer
was comin' out yere ter meet up with Jim Westcott, didn't yer?"

She made no answer, desperately seeking some means of escape, the full
significance of her position clear before her.

"Got a nice little note from Jim," the fellow went on, "an' lost no
time a gittin' y