ty little to do with revolutin'. He's just plain bad man,
miss--cattle thief, an' all round outlaw. There's a price on his head
in three States, but nobody dares go after it, because of the dangerous
gang he controls."

Her eyes sought the distant figure doubtfully.

"And this man--this Juan Cateras--what of him?"

"One of the devil's own imps; I'd a heap rather play with a rattlesnake
than him." He paused, to assure him self that Sikes was safely out of
hearing. "I thought maybe I better tell yer while I had a chance.
That fellar is plumb pisen, miss."

She reached out her hand, and touched him.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, "I--I am glad you did. Am--am I to
be left here with these--these men?"

"No, not exactly. I suppose they'll naturally sorter expect to run
things while they're here, fer this yere valley is their camp, Mendez
has been hidin' out yere fer some time. But Joe and I are goin' to
stay, and even old Mendez ain't liable to make no enemy outer Bill
Lacy. They had a row wunst, an' I reckon they don't neither of 'em
want another. I ain't greatly afeerd o' Mendez, but I wouldn't put
nuthin' past this Cateras lad, if he got some hell idea in his head.
He's Injun-Mex, an' that's the worst kind."

The wagon lurched down a steep bank, splashed its way across the narrow
stream, and up the other side, the horses straining in their harness to
the sharp snap of the driver's whip. A towering precipice of rock
confronted them, and at its very foot stood two cabins of log
construction, so closely resembling their stone background as to be
almost imperceptible, at the distance of a few yards. Sikes leaned on
his rifle waiting, and as Moore halted the panting team, and leaped
over the wheel to the ground, Cateras came forth from one of the open
doors and crossed the intervening space on foot. He was smoking a
cigarette, the blue wreath of smoke circling above his head in the
still air.

"The lady is to be placed in my care," he said almost insolently.
"Your hand, _senorita_."

Miss Donovan hesitated, the memory of Moore's words of warning yet
ringing in her ears. The handsome face, with its smiling lips and
eyes, suddenly appeared to her a mask assumed to conceal the unclean
soul behind. Moore broke the silence with a protest.

"In your care, _senor_? The girl is here as prisoner to Bill Lacy."

"So I told Mendez," he said indifferently. "But he is in ill humour
this morning, and took s