Toot Wambush!" she called out in a clear, steady voice. "I
want to speak to you!"

Wambush, in a spirit of bravado, had just ridden on to the veranda, and
could hear nothing above the thunderous clatter of his horse's hoofs on
the floor.

"Here, thar, you jail-bird, yore wanted!" cried out the leader. "Stop
that infernal racket!"

"What is it?" asked Wambush, riding back among his fellows.

"Toot Wambush!" Harriet repeated.

He looked up at her. "What do you want?" he asked, doggedly, after
gazing up at her steadily for a moment.

"Get away as fast as you can," she replied. "His wound has broke
again. He's bleeding to death!"

"Well, that's certainly good news!" Wambush did not move.

"You'd better go," she urged. "It will be wilful murder. You made the
attack. He was unarmed, and you used a pistol and a knife. Do you
want to be hung?"

He sat on his horse silent and motionless, his face upraised in the
full moonlight. There was no sound except the champing of bits, the
creaking of saddles.

"Come on, Toot," urged the leader in a low tone. "You've settled yore
man's hash; what more do you want? We've got you out o' jail, now let
us put you whar you'll be safe from the law."

Wambush had not taken his eyes from the girl. He now spoke as if his
words were meant for her only.

"If I go," he said, "will you come? Will you follow me? You know I'm
not a-goin' to leave 'thout you, Harriet."

It seemed to Westerfelt that she hesitated before speaking, and at that
moment a realization of what she had become to him and what she
doubtless was to Wambush came upon him with such stunning force that he
forgot even his peril in contemplating what seemed almost as bad as
death.

"This is no time nor place to speak of such things," he heard the girl
say, finally. "Go this minute and save yourself while you can."

"Hold on, Harriet!" Wambush cried out, as she was moving away.
Westerfelt could no longer see her, and then he heard her close the
door and start down-stairs.

"Come on, Toot"--the leader whipped his horse up against that of
Wambush.

Some of the others had already started away.

Toot did not move. He was still looking at the spot where Harriet
Floyd had stood.

"It simply means the halter, you blamed fool!"

Wambush stared into the mask of the speaker, and then reluctantly rode
away.

Chapter VIII

When Harriet returned she found Westerfelt lying face downward on the
flo