be at his elbow. The
sobs ceased suddenly, as if choked by a mighty hand.

The listener's inclination was to follow the example of Anderson Crow
and run madly off into the night. But beneath this natural panic was the
soul of chivalry. Something told him that a woman out there in the
solitude needed the arms of a man; and his blood began to grow hot
again. Presently the silence was broken by a sharp cry of despair:

"Have pity! Oh, God--" moaned the voice that sent thrills through his
body--the voice of a woman, tender, refined, crushed. His fingers
gripped the revolver with fresh vigor, but almost instantly the rustling
of dead leaves reached his ears: the man and his victim were making
their way toward the house.

Bonner crouched among the bushes as if paralysed. He began to comprehend
the situation. In a vague sort of way he remembered hearing of
Tinkletown's sensation over at his uncle's house, where he was living
with a couple of servants for a month's shooting. The atmosphere had
been full of the sensational abduction story for several days--the
abduction of a beautiful young woman and the helpless attitude of the
relatives and friends. Like a whirlwind the whole situation spread
itself before him; it left him weak. He had come upon the gang and their
victim in this out-of-the-way corner of the world, far from the city
toward which they were supposed to have fled. He had the solution in his
hands and he was filled with the fire of the ancients.

A light appeared in the low doorway and the squat figure of a man held a
lantern on high. An instant later, another man dragged the helpless girl
across the threshold and into the house. Even as Bonner squared himself
to rush down upon them the light disappeared and darkness fell over the
cabin. There was a sound of footsteps on the floor, a creaking of hinges
and the stealthy closing of a door. Then there was absolute quiet.

Bonner was wise as well as brave. He saw that to rush down upon the
house now might prove his own as well as her undoing. In the darkness,
the bandits would have every advantage. For a moment he glared at the
black shadow ahead, his brain working like lightning.

"That poor girl!" he muttered vaguely. "Damn beasts! But I'll fix 'em,
by heaven! It won't be long, my boys."

His pondering brought quick results. Crawling to Bud's cot, he aroused
him from a deep sleep. Inside of two minutes the lad was streaking off
through the woods toward town,