everything anyhow but want her to corroborate
details."

It was an hour before Kate joined them, and her eyes, though they were
very bright, told tales, of tears that had been shed.

"That poor woman! She has told me everything. Father has been down in that
cellar for days under a guard. They took him away to-night. She doesn't
know where. It was she sent the warnings to Sheriff Bolt. She wanted him
to raid the place, but she dared not go to him."

"Because of Blackwell?"

"Yes. He came straight to her as soon as he was freed from the
penitentiary. He had her completely terrorized. It seems she has been
afraid to draw a deep breath ever since he returned. Even while he was in
the hills she was always looking for him to come. The man used to keep her
in a hell and he began bullying her again. So she gave him money, and he
came for more--and more."

Curly nodded. He said nothing, but his strong jaw clamped.

"He was there that day," the girl continued. "She plucked up courage to
refuse him what little she had left because she needed it for the rent. He
got hold of her arm and twisted it. Father heard her cry and came in.
Blackwell was behind the door as it opened. He struck with a loaded cane
and Father fell unconscious. He raised it to strike again, but she clung
to his arm and called for help. Before he could shake her off another man
came in. He wrenched the club away."

"Fendrick?" breathed Curly.

"She doesn't know. But the first thing he did was to lock the outer door
and take the key. They carried Father down into the cellar. Before he came
to himself his hands were tied behind his back."

"And then?"

"They watched him day and night. Fendrick himself did not go near the
place--if it was Fendrick. Blackwell swore to kill Mrs. Wylie if she told.
They held him there till to-night. She thinks they were trying to get
Father to sign some paper."

"The relinquishment of course. That means the other man was Fendrick."

Kate nodded. "Yes."

Curly rose. The muscles stood out in his jaw; hard as steel ropes.

"We'll rake the Rincons with a fine tooth comb. Don't you worry. I've
already wired for Bucky O'Connor to come and help. We'll get your Father
out of the hands of those hell hounds. Won't we, Dick?"

The girl's eyes admired him, a lean hard-bitten Westerner with eyes as
unblinking as an Arizona sun and with muscles like wire springs. His face
still held its boyishness, but it had lost forever the irre