hless
now as they had once been mild, surrounded the rustlers. John Caldwell
stood foremost, with ashen lips breaking bitterly into speech:

"Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!"

The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a
leader in war.

"What's the game?" demanded Hare.

"A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope," replied John Caldwell. The
low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again.

"There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them
hanged."

"Pick them out!" A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in
John Caldwell's hard face.

Hare eyed the prisoners.

"Nebraska, step out here," said he.

"I reckon you're mistaken," replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently
on Hare. "I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to
cheat the man you mean."

"I saw you untie the girl's hands."

"You did? Well, d--n me!"

"Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You
weren't cut out for a thief."

"Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin'
for you, stranger, an' prove it."

"Cut him loose from the others," said Hare. He scrutinized the line of
rustlers. Several were masked in black. "Take off those masks!"

"No! Those men go to their graves masked." Again the strange twinge of
pain crossed John Caldwell's face.

"Ah, I see," exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: "I couldn't recognize the
other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her
and I'll save him. But how?"

Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent,
clamored that he was the one to be saved.

"Hurry back home," said Caldwell in Hare's ear "Tell them to fetch
Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are wavering.
You've got only a few minutes."

Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the
run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family.

"No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well," he panted. "The rustlers are
captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody."

One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a
latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone,
and dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly
pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall,
black hair flying, dark eyes beaming.

"My darling!" Oblivious of the Mormons he