mijohn in which there had once been liquor.

"Nary a drop!" growled the one who got possession of it. And with rage
he threw the thing back into the cabin, where it crashed into the fire.

"Sandy, you've scattered the fire," protested the grizzled robber, as he
glanced into the cabin. "Them furs is catchin'."

"Let 'em burn!" called Fresno. "We got all we want. Come on."

"But what's the sense burnin' the feller's cabin down?"

"Nuthin' 'll burn," said the dark-faced man, "an' if it does it 'll look
like Indians' work. Savvy, Old Miles?"

They shuffled out together. Evidently Fresno was the leader, or at
least the strongest force. He looked at the sack in his hand and then at
Allie.

"You fellers fight over thet," he said, and, throwing the sack on the
ground, he strode toward Allie.

The three men all made a rush for the sack and Sandy got it. The other
two pressed round him, not threateningly, but aggressively, sure of
their rights.

"I'll divide," said Sandy, as he mounted his horse. "Wait till we make
camp. You fellers pack the beavers."

Fresno untied Allie from the tree, but he left the lasso round her;
holding to it and her arm, he rudely dragged her to his horse.

"Git up, an' hurry," he ordered.

Allie mounted. The stirrups were too long.

"You fellers clear out," called Fresno, "an ketch me one of them hosses
we seen along the brook."

While he readjusted the stirrups, Allie looked down upon him. He was
an uncouth ruffian, and his touch gave her an insupportable disgust.
He wore no weapons, but his saddle holster contained a revolver and the
sheath a Winchester. Allie could have shot him and made a run for it,
and she had the nerve to attempt it. The others, however, did not get
out of sight before Fresno had the stirrups adjusted. He strode after
them, leading the horse. Allie glanced back to see a thin stream of
smoke coming out of the cabin door. Then she faced about, desperately
resolved to take any chance to get away. She decided that she would not
be safe among these men for very long. Whatever she was to do she must
do that day, and she only awaited her opportunity.

At the ford Sandy caught one of Slingerland's horses--a mustang and
a favorite of Allie's, and one she could ride. He was as swift as the
wind. Once upon him, she could run away from any horse which these
robbers rode. Fresno put the end of the lasso round the mustang's neck.

"Can you ride bareback?" he asked Allie.

A