r--or," she faltered, "or a mistake."

"No mistake," said Jeff wretchedly.

He had risen. Man and maid stared fiercely into each other's faces.
Behind them, Sillett stood quietly observant, but his right hand stole
down to his pocket.

"Hold up your hands!" he said sharply.

Jeff and the girl sprang apart. Sillett had levelled a pistol at the
deputy-sheriff, repeating his words with one addition: "_Quick!_"
Jeff raised his hands.

"He carries a 'gun,'" said Sillett to his daughter. "Take it from
him."

She obeyed. Her face was white as milk, but not with fear. The man who
held the pistol had ceased for the moment to bear any resemblance to
her father, but assuredly he was the defaulter whom Jeff Wells and the
sheriff sought. The expression upon his face revealed that, if nothing
else. Sadie removed the pistol and brought it to Sillett.

"In the hut, on a nail behind the door, is a piece of cord. Fetch it!"

She fetched it.

"Tie his hands behind his back. Tie 'em good and firm. Take your time.
Make a job of it. That's it. Now, then, hitch the loose ends round
that scrub-oak. That's right. Now go into the house, and slip into
your overalls. We'll be shifting camp in less than half-an-hour."

"Dad!"

"Well?"

"It's true, then?"

He smiled grimly.

"Yes--it's true. Get a move on you. Mr. Wells and I are going to have
a little talk."

She walked slowly towards the hut; then suddenly she turned, flying
back on nimble feet.

"Dad," she said quickly. "Mr. Wells will help us, if you ask him, if--
if _I_ ask him." She approached Jeff. "I told you that your duty
was to the State," she continued, "but I take that back. Do you hear?
Save Dad! I don't care what he has done to others, he's always been so
good to me. And if you will help us, I--I----"

"Sadie!"

Sillett's voice was very harsh.

"Yes, Dad."

"Leave us. Not a word, child. Go!"

She moved away, the tears trickling from her eyes. Nothing was said
till the door had closed behind her; then Jeff broke the silence, in a
voice with a strange rasp to it.

"I _will_ help you, Mr. Sillett."

Sillett thrust his weapon into his pocket, and came close to the
speaker, eyeing him attentively. An impartial observer might have
pronounced the younger man to be the defaulter.

"You'll help me--eh? How?"

"I can get you safe into Mexico."

"Can you?"

"At a word from me the sheriff'll be huntin' somewheres else. See?"

"I see."

"Don't think you