things which they had ceased to understand. In the
stupendous chaos of events, in the heart of this virgin soil, nothing
mattered but the satisfaction of the appetites. It was a new
situation, which they were unable to analyse, though they hastened to
profit by its results without so much as discussing them.

The brothers Mazzani lifted their bundles to their shoulders. Forsetta
went up to Dolores and stared at her for a moment without speaking,
with eyes that glittered between his half-closed lids. His face
betrayed at the same time hesitation and a brutal desire, which he
made no attempt to conceal, to seize the girl as his prey.

But he restrained himself and, picking up his bag, moved off with his
companions.

Simon had watched the scene in silence. His eyes met Dolores'. She
coloured slightly and said, in a low voice:

"Forsetta used to know how to keep his distance. . . . The air of the
prairie, as you say, has acted on him as it has on the others."

Around them, a bed of dried wrack and other sea-weeds, beneath which
the cable disappeared for a length of several miles, formed a series
of hills and valleys. Dolores decided that they would halt there and
led the horses a little way off, so that they should not disturb
Simon's rest.

As it happened, Simon, having lain down on the ground and fallen
asleep, was attacked, knocked helpless, gagged and bound before he was
able to offer the least resistance to his assailants. These were the
three Indians, who had returned at a run.

Forsetta took possession of Simon's pocket-book and watch, tested the
firmness of his bonds and then, flat on his stomach, with one of the
Mazzanis on either side, crawled under the wrack and seaweed towards
the spot where the girl was tending the horses.

Simon repeatedly saw their supple bodies wriggling like reptiles.
Dolores, who was busied over the saddle-bags, had her back to them. No
feeling of uneasiness warned her of her danger. In vain Simon strove
against his bonds and uttered shouts which were stifled by his gag. No
power could prevent the Indians from attaining their aim.

The younger Mazzani was the swifter of the two. He suddenly sprung
upon Dolores and threw her down, while his brother leapt upon one of
the horses and Forsetta, holding another by the bridle, gave his
orders in a hoarse tone of triumph:

"Lift her. Take away her rifle. . . . Good! Bring her here. . . .
We'll tie her on."

Dolores was placed across