llie lied. Her first thought was to lead them astray as to her skill
with a horse; and then it occurred to her that if she rode Fresno's
saddle there might be an opportunity to use the gun.

Fresno leaped astride the mustang, and was promptly bucked off. The
other men guffawed. Fresno swore and, picking himself up, tried again.
This time the mustang behaved better, but it was plain he did not like
the weight. Then Fresno started off, leading his own horse, and at a
trot that showed he wanted to cover ground.

Allie heard the others quarreling over something, probably the gold
Slingerland had been so many years in accumulating.

They rode on to where the valley opened into another, along which wound
the old St. Vrain and Laramie Trail. They kept to this, traveling east
for a few miles, and then entered an intersecting valley, where some
distance up they had a camp. They had not taken the precaution to hide
either packs or mules, and so far as Allie could tell they had no
fear of Indians. Probably they had crossed from California, and, being
dishonest and avoiding caravans and camps, they had not become fully
acquainted with the perils of that region.

It was about noon when they arrived at this place. The sun was becoming
blurred and a storm appeared brewing. Fresno dismounted, dropping the
halter of the mustang. Then he let go his own bridle. The eyes he bent
on Allie made her turn hers away as from something that could scorch
and stain. He pulled her off the saddle, rudely, with coarse and meaning
violence.

Allie pushed him back and faced him. In a way she had been sheltered
all her life, yet she had lived among such men as this man, and she knew
that resistance or pleadings were useless; they would only inflame him.
She was not ready yet to court death.

"Wait," she said.

"A-huh!" he grunted, breathing heavily. He was an animal, slow-witted
and brutal.

"Fresno, I am Durade's girl!" she went on.

"I thought I knowed you. But you're grown to be a woman an' a dam'
pretty one."

Allie drew him aside, farther from the others, who had renewed a loud
altercation. "Fresno, it's gold you want," she affirmed, rather than
asked.

"Sure. But no small stake like thet'd be my choice ag'in' you," he
leered, jerking a thumb back at his companions.

"You remember Horn?" went on Allie.

"Horn! The miner who made thet big strike out near Sacramento?"

"Yes, that's who I mean," replied Allie, hurriedly. "We--we left