want to hound him an' put him where he's never
been yet--in jail. You want to spite his friends. Wal, listen, you
lean-jawed, skunk-bitten coyote! Go ahead an' try to arrest him!"

Stillwell took one mighty stride off the porch. His last words had been
cold. His rage appeared to have been transferred to Hawe. The sheriff
had begun to stutter and shake a lanky red hand at the cattleman when
Stewart stepped out.

"Here, you fellows, give me a chance to say a word."

As Stewart appeared the Mexican girl suddenly seemed vitalized out
of her stupor. She strained at her bonds, as if to lift her hands
beseechingly. A flush animated her haggard face, and her big dark eyes
lighted.

"Senor Gene!" she moaned. "Help me! I so seek. They beat me, rope me,
'mos' keel me. Oh, help me, Senor Gene!"

"Shut up, er I'll gag you," said the man who held Bonita's horse.

"Muzzle her, Sneed, if she blabs again," called Hawe. Madeline felt
something tense and strained working in the short silence. Was it only a
phase of her thrilling excitement? Her swift glance showed the faces of
Nels and Monty and Nick to be brooding, cold, watchful. She wondered why
Stewart did not look toward Bonita. He, too, was now dark-faced, cool,
quiet, with something ominous about him.

"Hawe, I'll submit to arrest without any fuss," he said, slowly, "if
you'll take the ropes off that girl."

"Nope," replied the sheriff. "She got away from me onct. She's hawg-tied
now, an' she'll stay hawg-tied."

Madeline thought she saw Stewart give a slight start. But an
unaccountable dimness came over her eyes, at brief intervals obscuring
her keen sight. Vaguely she was conscious of a clogged and beating
tumult in her breast.

"All right, let's hurry out of here," said Stewart. "You've made
annoyance enough. Ride down to the corral with me. I'll get my horse and
go with you."

"Hold on!" yelled Hawe, as Stewart turned away. "Not so fast. Who's
doin' this? You don't come no El Capitan stunts on me. You'll ride one
of my pack-horses, an' you'll go in irons."

"You want to handcuff me?" queried Stewart, with sudden swift start of
passion.

"Want to? Haw, haw! Nope, Stewart, thet's jest my way with hoss-thieves,
raiders, Greasers, murderers, an' sich. See hyar, you Sneed, git off an'
put the irons on this man."

The guerrilla called Sneed slid off his horse and began to fumble in his
saddle-bags.

"You see, Bill," went on Hawe, "I swore in a new depooty fer this