THE MUCKER

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

THE MUCKER: Originally published serially in All-Story Cavalier Weekly. Copyright (c) 1914, by The Frank A. Munsey Co. 

THE RETURN OF THE MUCKER: Sequel to THE MUCKER. Originally publishedserially in All-Story Weekly. Copyright (c) 1916, by The Frank A. MunseyCo. 

First Ballantine Edition: January, 1966

Manufactured in the United States of America

BALLANTINE BOOKS, INC. 101 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10003

PART I. 

CHAPTER I. BILLY BYRNE

BILLY BYRNE was a product of the streets and alleys of Chicago's greatWest Side. From Halsted to Robey, and from Grand Avenue to Lake Streetthere was scarce a bartender whom Billy knew not by his first name. And, in proportion to their number which was considerably less, he knew thepatrolmen and plain clothes men equally as well, but not so pleasantly. 

His kindergarten education had commenced in an alley back of afeed-store. Here a gang of older boys and men were wont to congregateat such times as they had naught else to occupy their time, and as thebridewell was the only place in which they ever held a job for more thana day or two, they had considerable time to devote to congregating. 

They were pickpockets and second-story men, made and in the making, andall were muckers, ready to insult the first woman who passed, or picka quarrel with any stranger who did not appear too burly. By night theyplied their real vocations. By day they sat in the alley behind thefeedstore and drank beer from a battered tin pail. 

The question of labor involved in transporting the pail, empty, to thesaloon across the street, and returning it, full, to the alley back ofthe feed-store was solved by the presence of admiring and envious littleboys of the neighborhood who hung, wide-eyed and thrilled, about theseheroes of their childish lives. 

Billy Byrne, at six, was rushing the can for this noble band, andincidentally picking up his knowledge of life and the rudiments of hiseducation. He gloried in the fact that he was personally acquainted with"Eddie" Welch, and that with his own ears he had heard "Eddie" tell thegang how he stuck up a guy on West Lake Street within fifty yards of theTwenty-eighth Precinct Police Station. 

The kindergarten period lasted until Billy was ten; then he commenced"swiping" brass faucets from vacant buildings and selling them to afence who ran a junkshop on Lincoln Street near Kinzie. 

From this man he obtained the hint that graduated him to a higher grade, so that at twelve he was robbing freight cars in the yards along KinzieStreet, and it was about this same time that he commenced to findpleasure in the feel of his fist against the jaw of a fellow-man. 

He had had his boyish scraps with his fellows off and on ever since hecould remember; but his first real fight came when he was twelve. Hehad had an altercation with an erstwhile pal over the division of thereturns from some freight-car booty. The gang was all present, and aswords quickly gave place to blows, as they have a habit of doing incertain sections of the West Side, the men and boys formed a rough ringabout the contestants. 

The battle was a long one. The two were rolling about in the dust ofthe alley quite as often as they were upon their feet exchanging blows. There was nothing fair, nor decent, nor scientific about their methods. They gouged and bit and tore. They used knees and elbows and feet, andbut for the timely presence of a brickbat beneath his fingers at thepsychological moment Billy Byrne would have gone down to humiliatingdefeat. As it was the other boy went down, and for a week Billy remainedhidden by one of the gang pending the report from the hospital. 

When word came that the patient would live, Billy felt an immense loadlifted from his shoulders, for he dreaded arrest and experience withthe law that he had learned from childhood to deride and hate. Of coursethere was the loss of prestige that would naturally have accrued to himcould he have been pointed out as the "guy that croaked Sheehan"; butthere is always a fly in the ointment, and Billy only sighed and cameout of his temporary retirement. 

That battle started Billy to thinking, and the result of thatmental activity was a determination to learn to handle his mittsscientifically--people of the West Side do not have hands; they areequipped by Nature with mitts and dukes. A few have paws and flippers. 

He had no opportunity to realize his new dream for several years; butwhen he was about seventeen a neighbor's son surprised his little worldby suddenly developing from an unknown teamster into a locally famouslight-weight. 

The young man never had been affiliated with the gang, as his escutcheonwas defiled with a record of steady employment. So Billy had knownnothing of the sparring lessons his young neighbor had taken, or of thework he had done at the down-town gymnasium of Larry Hilmore. 

Now it happened that while the new light-weight was unknown to thecharmed circle of the gang, Billy knew him fairly well by reason ofthe proximity of their respective parental back yards, and so when theglamour of pugilistic success haloed the young man Billy lost no time inbasking in the light of reflected glory. 

He saw much of his new hero all the following winter. He accompanied himto many mills, and on one glorious occasion occupied a position in thecoming champion's corner. When the prize fighter toured, Billy continuedto hang around Hilmore's place, running errands and doing odd jobs, thewhile he picked up pugilistic lore, and absorbed the spirit of thegame along with the rudiments and finer points of its science, almostunconsciously. Then his ambition changed. Once he had longed to shine asa gunman; now he was determined to become a prize fighter; but theold gang still saw much of him, and he was a familiar figure about thesaloon corners along Grand Avenue and Lake Street. 

During this period Billy neglected the box cars on Kinzie Street, partially because he felt that he was fitted for more dignifiedemployment, and as well for the fact that the railroad company haddoubled the number of watchmen in the yards; but there were times whenhe felt the old yearning for excitement and adventure. These times wereusually coincident with an acute financial depression in Billy's changepocket, and then he would fare forth in the still watches of the night, with a couple of boon companions and roll a souse, or stick up a saloon. 

It was upon an occasion of this nature that an event occurred which wasfated later to change the entire course of Billy Byrne's life. Uponthe West Side the older gangs are jealous of the sanctity of their ownterritory. Outsiders do not trespass with impunity. From Halsted toRobey, and from Lake to Grand lay the broad hunting preserve of Kelly'sgang, to which Billy had been almost born, one might say. Kelly ownedthe feed-store back of which the gang had loafed for years, and thoughhimself a respectable businessman his name had been attached to thepack of hoodlums who held forth at his back door as the easiest means oflocating and identifying its motley members. 

The police and citizenry of this great territory were the naturalenemies and prey of Kelly's gang, but as the kings of old protectedthe deer of their great forests from poachers, so Kelly's gang feltit incumbent upon them to safeguard the lives and property which theyconsidered theirs by divine right. It is doubtful that they thought ofthe matter in just this way, but the effect was the same. 

And so it was that as Billy Byrne wended homeward alone in the wee hoursof the morning after emptying the cash drawer of old Schneider's saloonand locking the weeping Schneider in his own ice box, he was deeplygrieved and angered to see three rank outsiders from Twelfth Streetbeating Patrolman Stanley Lasky with his own baton, the while theysimultaneously strove to kick in his ribs with their heavy boots. 

Now Lasky was no friend of Billy Byrne; but the officer had beenborn and raised in the district and was attached to the Twenty-eighthPrecinct Station on Lake Street near Ashland Avenue, and so was partand parcel of the natural possession of the gang. Billy felt that it wasentirely ethical to beat up a cop, provided you confined your effortsto those of your own district; but for a bunch of yaps from southof Twelfth Street to attempt to pull off any such coarse work in hisbailiwick--why it was unthinkable. 

A hero and rescuer of lesser experience than Billy Byrne wouldhave rushed melodramatically into the midst of the fray, and in allprobability have had his face pushed completely through the back of hishead, for the guys from Twelfth Street were not of the rah-rah-boy typeof hoodlum--they were bad men, with an upper case B. So Billy creptstealthily along in the shadows until he was quite close to them, andbehind them. On the way he had gathered up a cute little granite pavingblock, than which there is nothing in the world harder, not even aTwelfth Street skull. He was quite close now to one of the men--he whowas wielding the officer's club to such excellent disadvantage to theofficer--and then he raised the paving block only to lower it silentlyand suddenly upon the back of that unsuspecting head--"and then therewere two. "

Before the man's companions realized what had happened Billy hadpossessed himself of the fallen club and struck one of them a blinding, staggering blow across the eyes. Then number three pulled his gun andfired point-blank at Billy. The bullet tore through the mucker's leftshoulder. It would have sent a more highly organized and nervouslyinclined man to the pavement; but Billy was neither highly organized nornervously inclined, so that about the only immediate effect it had uponhim was to make him mad--before he had been but peeved--peeved at therank crust that had permitted these cheap-skates from south of TwelfthStreet to work his territory. 

Thoroughly aroused, Billy was a wonder. From a long line of burlyancestors he had inherited the physique of a prize bull. From earliestchildhood he had fought, always unfairly, so that he knew all the tricksof street fighting. During the past year there had been added to Billy'snatural fighting ability and instinct a knowledge of the scientificend of the sport. The result was something appalling--to the gink fromTwelfth Street. 

Before he knew whether his shot had killed Billy his gun had beenwrenched from his hand and flung across the street; he was down on thegranite with a hand as hard as the paving block scrambling his facialattractions beyond hope of recall. 

By this time Patrolman Lasky had staggered to his feet, and mostopportunely at that, for the man whom Billy had dazed with the club wasrecovering. Lasky promptly put him to sleep with the butt of the gunthat he had been unable to draw when first attacked, then he turned toassist Billy. But it was not Billy who needed assistance--it was thegentleman from Bohemia. With difficulty Lasky dragged Billy from hisprey. 

"Leave enough of him for the inquest, " pleaded Lasky. 

When the wagon arrived Billy had disappeared, but Lasky had recognizedhim and thereafter the two had nodded pleasantly to each other upon suchoccasions as they chanced to meet upon the street. 

Two years elapsed before the event transpired which proved a crisis inBilly's life. During this period his existence had been much the same asbefore. He had collected what was coming to him from careless and lessmuscular citizens. He had helped to stick up a half-dozen saloons. Hehad robbed the night men in two elevated stations, and for a while hadbeen upon the pay-roll of a certain union and done strong arm work inall parts of the city for twenty-five dollars a week. 

By day he was a general utility man about Larry Hilmore's boxingacademy, and time and time again Hilmore urged him to quit drinkingand live straight, for he saw in the young giant the makings of a greatheavy-weight; but Billy couldn't leave the booze alone, and so the bestthat he got was an occasional five spot for appearing in preliminarybouts with third- and fourth-rate heavies and has-beens; but during thethree years that he had hung about Hilmore's he had acquired an enviableknowledge of the manly art of self-defense. 

On the night that things really began to happen in the life of BillyByrne that estimable gentleman was lolling in front of a saloon at thecorner of Lake and Robey. The dips that congregated nightly there underthe protection of the powerful politician who owned the place werecommencing to assemble. Billy knew them all, and nodded to them as theypassed him. He noted surprise in the faces of several as they saw himstanding there. He wondered what it was all about, and determined to askthe next man who evinced even mute wonderment at his presence what waseating him. 

Then Billy saw a harness bull strolling toward him from the east. It wasLasky. When Lasky saw Billy he too opened his eyes in surprise, and whenhe came quite close to the mucker he whispered something to him, thoughhe kept his eyes straight ahead as though he had not seen, Billy at all. 

In deference to the whispered request Billy presently strolled aroundthe corner toward Walnut Street, but at the alley back of the saloon heturned suddenly in. A hundred yards up the alley he found Lasky in theshadow of a telephone pole. 

"Wotinell are you doin' around here?" asked the patrolman. "Didn't youknow that Sheehan had peached?"

Two nights before old man Schneider, goaded to desperation by therepeated raids upon his cash drawer, had shown fight when he againhad been invited to elevate his hands, and the holdup men had shot himthrough the heart. Sheehan had been arrested on suspicion. 

Billy had not been with Sheehan that night. As a matter of fact he neverhad trained with him, for, since the boyish battle that the two hadwaged, there had always been ill feeling between them; but with Lasky'swords Billy knew what had happened. 

"Sheehan says I done it, eh?" he questioned. 

"That's what he says. "

"I wasn't within a mile of Schneider's that night, " protested Billy. 

"The Lieut thinks different, " said Lasky. "He'd be only too glad to soakyou; for you've always been too slick to get nicked before. Orders isout to get you, and if I were you I'd beat it and beat it quick. I don'thave to tell you why I'm handing you this, but it's all I can do foryou. Now take my advice and make yourself scarce, though you'll haveto go some to make your get-away now--every man on the force has yourdescription by this time. "

Billy turned without a word and walked east in the alley toward LincolnStreet. Lasky returned to Robey Street. In Lincoln Street Billy walkednorth to Kinzie. Here he entered the railroad yards. An hour later hewas bumping out of town toward the West on a fast freight. Three weekslater he found himself in San Francisco. He had no money, but themethods that had so often replenished his depleted exchequer at home hefelt would serve the same purpose here. 

Being unfamiliar with San Francisco, Billy did not know where best towork, but when by accident he stumbled upon a street where there weremany saloons whose patrons were obviously seafaring men Billy wasdistinctly elated. What could be better for his purpose than a drunkensailor?

He entered one of the saloons and stood watching a game of cards, or thus he seemed to be occupied. As a matter of fact his eyes wereconstantly upon the alert, roving, about the room to wherever a man wasin the act of paying for a round of drinks that a fat wallet might belocated. 

Presently one that filled him with longing rewarded his careful watch. The man was sitting at a table a short distance from Billy. Two othermen were with him. As he paid the waiter from a well-filled pocketbookhe looked up to meet Billy's eyes upon him. 

With a drunken smile he beckoned to the mucker to join them. Billy feltthat Fate was overkind to him, and he lost no time in heeding her call. A moment later he was sitting at the table with the three sailors, andhad ordered a drop of red-eye. 

The stranger was very lavish in his entertainment. He scarcely waitedfor Billy to drain one glass before he ordered another, and once afterBilly had left the table for a moment he found a fresh drink awaitinghim when he returned--his host had already poured it for him. 

It was this last drink that did the business. 

CHAPTER II. SHANGHAIED

WHEN Billy opened his eyes again he could not recall, for the instant, very much of his recent past. At last he remembered with painful regretthe drunken sailor it had been his intention to roll. He felt deeplychagrined that his rightful prey should have escaped him. He couldn'tunderstand how it had happened. 

"This Frisco booze must be something fierce, " thought Billy. 

His head ached frightfully and he was very sick. So sick that the roomin which he lay seemed to be rising and falling in a horribly realisticmanner. Every time it dropped it brought Billy's stomach nearly to hismouth. 

Billy shut his eyes. Still the awful sensation. Billy groaned. He neverhad been so sick in all his life before, and, my, how his poor head didhurt. Finding that it only seemed to make matters worse when he closedhis eyes Billy opened them again. 

He looked about the room in which he lay. He found it a stuffy holefilled with bunks in tiers three deep around the sides. In the center ofthe room was a table. Above the table a lamp hung suspended from one ofthe wooden beams of the ceiling. 

The lamp arrested Billy's attention. It was swinging back and forthrather violently. This could not be a hallucination. The room might seemto be rising and falling, but that lamp could not seem to be swingingaround in any such manner if it were not really and truly swinging. Hecouldn't account for it. Again he shut his eyes for a moment. When heopened them to look again at the lamp he found it still swung as before. 

Cautiously he slid from his bunk to the floor. It was with difficultythat he kept his feet. Still that might be but the effects of theliquor. At last he reached the table to which he clung for support whilehe extended one hand toward the lamp. 

There was no longer any doubt! The lamp was beating back and forth likethe clapper of a great bell. Where was he? Billy sought a window. Hefound some little round, glass-covered holes near the low ceiling at oneside of the room. It was only at the greatest risk to life and limb thathe managed to crawl on all fours to one of them. 

As he straightened up and glanced through he was appalled at thesight that met his eyes. As far as he could see there was naught but atumbling waste of water. And then the truth of what had happened to himbroke upon his understanding. 

"An' I was goin' to roll that guy!" he muttered in helplessbewilderment. "I was a-goin' to roll him, and now look here wot he hasdone to me!"

At that moment a light appeared above as the hatch was raised, and Billysaw the feet and legs of a large man descending the ladder from above. When the newcomer reached the floor and turned to look about his eyesmet Billy's, and Billy saw that it was his host of the previous evening. 

"Well, my hearty, how goes it?" asked the stranger. 

"You pulled it off pretty slick, " said Billy. 

"What do you mean?" asked the other with a frown. 

"Come off, " said Billy; "you know what I mean. "

"Look here, " replied the other coldly. "Don't you forget that I'm mateof this ship, an' that you want to speak respectful to me if you ain'tlookin' for trouble. My name's MR. Ward, an' when you speak to me saySIR. Understand?"

Billy scratched his head, and blinked his eyes. He never before hadbeen spoken to in any such fashion--at least not since he had put on theavoirdupois of manhood. His head ached horribly and he was sick to hisstomach--frightfully sick. His mind was more upon his physical sufferingthan upon what the mate was saying, so that quite a perceptible intervalof time elapsed before the true dimensions of the affront to his dignitycommenced to percolate into the befogged and pain-racked convolutions ofhis brain. 

The mate thought that his bluster had bluffed the new hand. That waswhat he had come below to accomplish. Experience had taught him that anearly lesson in discipline and subordination saved unpleasant encountersin the future. He also had learned that there is no better time to puta bluff of this nature across than when the victim is suffering from theafter-effects of whiskey and a drug--mentality, vitality, and courageare then at their lowest ebb. A brave man often is reduced to thepitiful condition of a yellow dog when nausea sits astride his stomach. 

But the mate was not acquainted with Billy Byrne of Kelly's gang. Billy's brain was befuddled, so that it took some time for an idea towriggle its way through, but his courage was all there, and all to thegood. Billy was a mucker, a hoodlum, a gangster, a thug, a tough. Whenhe fought, his methods would have brought a flush of shame to the faceof His Satanic Majesty. He had hit oftener from behind than from before. He had always taken every advantage of size and weight and numbers thathe could call to his assistance. He was an insulter of girls and women. He was a bar-room brawler, and a saloon-corner loafer. He was all thatwas dirty, and mean, and contemptible, and cowardly in the eyes of abrave man, and yet, notwithstanding all this, Billy Byrne was no coward. He was what he was because of training and environment. He knew no othermethods; no other code. Whatever the meager ethics of his kind he wouldhave lived up to them to the death. He never had squealed on a pal, and he never had left a wounded friend to fall into the hands of theenemy--the police. 

Nor had he ever let a man speak to him, as the mate had spoken, and getaway with it, and so, while he did not act as quickly as would have beenhis wont had his brain been clear, he did act; but the interval of timehad led the mate into an erroneous conception of its cause, and intoa further rash show of authority, and had thrown him off his guard aswell. 

"What you need, " said the mate, advancing toward Billy, "is a bash onthe beezer. It'll help you remember that you ain't nothin' but a dirtydamn landlubber, an' when your betters come around you'll--"

But what Billy would have done in the presence of his betters remainedstillborn in the mate's imagination in the face of what Billy reallydid do to his better as that worthy swung a sudden, vicious blow at themucker's face. 

Billy Byrne had not been scrapping with third- and fourth-rate heavies, and sparring with real, live ones for nothing. The mate's fist whistledthrough empty air; the blear-eyed hunk of clay that had seemed sucheasy prey to him was metamorphosed on the instant into an alert, catlikebundle of steel sinews, and Billy Byrne swung that awful right with thepile-driver weight, that even The Big Smoke himself had acknowledgedrespect for, straight to the short ribs of his antagonist. 

With a screech of surprise and pain the mate crumpled in the far cornerof the forecastle, rammed halfway beneath a bunk by the force of theterrific blow. Like a tiger Billy Byrne was after him, and dragging theman out into the center of the floor space he beat and mauled him untilhis victim's blood-curdling shrieks echoed through the ship from stem tostern. 

When the captain, followed by a half-dozen seamen rushed down thecompanionway, he found Billy sitting astride the prostrate form of themate. His great fingers circled the man's throat, and with mighty blowshe was dashing the fellow's head against the hard floor. Another momentand murder would have been complete. 

"Avast there!" cried the captain, and as though to punctuate his remarkhe swung the heavy stick he usually carried full upon the back ofBilly's head. It was that blow that saved the mate's life, for whenBilly came to he found himself in a dark and smelly hole, chained andpadlocked to a heavy stanchion. 

They kept Billy there for a week; but every day the captain visited himin an attempt to show him the error of his way. The medium used by theskipper for impressing his ideas of discipline upon Billy was a large, hard stick. At the end of the week it was necessary to carry Billy aboveto keep the rats from devouring him, for the continued beatings andstarvation had reduced him to little more than an unconscious mass ofraw and bleeding meat. 

"There, " remarked the skipper, as he viewed his work by the light ofday, "I guess that fellow'll know his place next time an officer an' agentleman speaks to him. "

That Billy survived is one of the hitherto unrecorded miracles of thepower of matter over mind. A man of intellect, of imagination, a beingof nerves, would have succumbed to the shock alone; but Billy was not asthese. He simply lay still and thoughtless, except for half-formed ideasof revenge, until Nature, unaided, built up what the captain had soruthlessly torn down. 

Ten days after they brought him up from the hold Billy was limpingabout the deck of the Halfmoon doing light manual labor. From the othersailors aboard he learned that he was not the only member of the crewwho had been shanghaied. Aside from a half-dozen reckless men from thecriminal classes who had signed voluntarily, either because they couldnot get a berth upon a decent ship, or desired to flit as quietly fromthe law zone of the United States as possible, not a man was there whohad been signed regularly. 

They were as tough and vicious a lot as Fate ever had foregathered inone forecastle, and with them Billy Byrne felt perfectly at home. Hisearly threats of awful vengeance to be wreaked upon the mate and skipperhad subsided with the rough but sensible advice of his messmates. Themate, for his part, gave no indication of harboring the assault thatBilly had made upon him other than to assign the most dangerous ordisagreeable duties of the ship to the mucker whenever it was possibleto do so; but the result of this was to hasten Billy's nauticaleducation, and keep him in excellent physical trim. 

All traces of alcohol had long since vanished from the young man'ssystem. His face showed the effects of his enforced abstemiousness ina marked degree. The red, puffy, blotchy complexion had given way to aclear, tanned skin; bright eyes supplanted the bleary, bloodshot thingsthat had given the bestial expression to his face in the past. Hisfeatures, always regular and strong, had taken on a peculiarly refineddignity from the salt air, the clean life, and the dangerous occupationof the deep-sea sailor, that would have put Kelly's gang to a pinch tohave recognized their erstwhile crony had he suddenly appeared in theirmidst in the alley back of the feed-store on Grand Avenue. 

With the new life Billy found himself taking on a new character. Hesurprised himself singing at his work--he whose whole life up to now hadbeen devoted to dodging honest labor--whose motto had been: Theworld owes me a living, and it's up to me to collect it. Also, he wassurprised to discover that he liked to work, that he took keen pride instriving to outdo the men who worked with him, and this spirit, despitethe suspicion which the captain entertained of Billy since the episodeof the forecastle, went far to making his life more endurable on boardthe Halfmoon, for workers such as the mucker developed into are not tobe sneezed at, and though he had little idea of subordination it wasworth putting up with something to keep him in condition to work. It wasthis line of reasoning that saved Billy's skull on one or two occasionswhen his impudence had been sufficient to have provoked the skipper toa personal assault upon him under ordinary conditions; and Mr. Ward, having tasted of Billy's medicine once, had no craving for anotherencounter with him that would entail personal conflict. 

The entire crew was made up of ruffians and unhung murderers, butSkipper Simms had had little experience with seamen of any other ilk, so he handled them roughshod, using his horny fist, and the short, heavystick that he habitually carried, in lieu of argument; but with theexception of Billy the men all had served before the mast in the past, so that ship's discipline was to some extent ingrained in them all. 

Enjoying his work, the life was not an unpleasant one for the mucker. The men of the forecastle were of the kind he had always known--therewas no honor among them, no virtue, no kindliness, no decency. With themBilly was at home--he scarcely missed the old gang. He made his friendsamong them, and his enemies. He picked quarrels, as had been his waysince childhood. His science and his great strength, together with hisendless stock of underhand tricks brought him out of each encounterwith fresh laurels. Presently he found it difficult to pick a fight--hismessmates had had enough of him. They left him severely alone. 

These ofttimes bloody battles engendered no deep-seated hatred in thehearts of the defeated. They were part of the day's work and play of thehalf-brutes that Skipper Simms had gathered together. There was only oneman aboard whom Billy really hated. That was the passenger, and Billyhated him, not because of anything that the man had said or done toBilly, for he had never even so much as spoken to the mucker, butbecause of the fine clothes and superior air which marked him plainly toBilly as one of that loathed element of society--a gentleman. 

Billy hated everything that was respectable. He had hated the smug, self-satisfied merchants of Grand Avenue. He had writhed in torture atthe sight of every shiny, purring automobile that had ever passed himwith its load of well-groomed men and women. A clean, stiff collarwas to Billy as a red rag to a bull. Cleanliness, success, opulence, decency, spelled but one thing to Billy--physical weakness; and he hatedphysical weakness. His idea of indicating strength and manliness lay indisplaying as much of brutality and uncouthness as possible. To assista woman over a mud hole would have seemed to Billy an acknowledgement ofpusillanimity--to stick out his foot and trip her so that she sprawledfull length in it, the hall mark of bluff manliness. And so he hated, with all the strength of a strong nature, the immaculate, courteous, well-bred man who paced the deck each day smoking a fragrant cigar afterhis meals. 

Inwardly he wondered what the dude was doing on board such a vessel asthe Halfmoon, and marveled that so weak a thing dared venture among realmen. Billy's contempt caused him to notice the passenger more than hewould have been ready to admit. He saw that the man's face was handsome, but there was an unpleasant shiftiness to his brown eyes; and then, entirely outside of his former reasons for hating him, Billy came toloathe him intuitively, as one who was not to be trusted. Finally hisdislike for the man became an obsession. He haunted, when disciplinepermitted, that part of the vessel where he would be most likely toencounter the object of his wrath, hoping, always hoping, that the"dude" would give him some slight pretext for "pushing in his mush, " asBilly would so picturesquely have worded it. 

He was loitering about the deck for this purpose one evening when heoverheard part of a low-voiced conversation between the object of hiswrath and Skipper Simms--just enough to set him to wondering what wasdoing, and to show him that whatever it might be it was crooked and thatthe immaculate passenger and Skipper Simms were both "in on it. "

He questioned "Bony" Sawyer and "Red" Sanders, but neither had nearly asmuch information as Billy himself, and so the Halfmoon came to Honoluluand lay at anchor some hundred yards from a stanch, trim, white yacht, and none knew, other than the Halfmoon's officers and her singlepassenger, the real mission of the harmless-looking little brigantine. 

CHAPTER III. THE CONSPIRACY

NO SHORE leave was granted the crew of the Halfmoon while the vessel layoff Honolulu, and deep and ominous were the grumblings of the men. OnlyFirst Officer Ward and the second mate went ashore. Skipper Simms keptthe men busy painting and holystoning as a vent for their pent emotions. 

Billy Byrne noticed that the passenger had abandoned his daylightstrolls on deck. In fact he never once left his cabin while the Halfmoonlay at anchor until darkness had fallen; then he would come on deck, often standing for an hour at a time with eyes fastened steadilyupon the brave little yacht from the canopied upper deck of which gaylaughter and soft music came floating across the still water. 

When Mr. Ward and the second mate came to shore a strange thinghappened. They entered a third-rate hotel near the water front, engageda room for a week, paid in advance, were in their room for half an hourand emerged clothed in civilian raiment. 

Then they hastened to another hostelry--a first-class one this time, andthe second mate walked ahead in frock coat and silk hat while Mr. Wardtrailed behind in a neat, blue serge sack suit, carrying both bags. 

At the second hotel the second mate registered as Henri Theriere, Countde Cadenet, and servant, France. His first act thereafter was to hand anote to the clerk asking that it be dispatched immediately. The note wasaddressed to Anthony Harding, Esq. , On Board Yacht Lotus. 

Count de Cadenet and his servant repaired immediately to the count'srooms, there to await an answer to the note. Henri Theriere, the secondofficer of the Halfmoon, in frock coat and silk hat looked every inch anobleman and a gentleman. What his past had been only he knew, but hispolished manners, his knowledge of navigation and seamanship, and hisleaning toward the ways of the martinet in his dealings with the menbeneath him had led Skipper Simms to assume that he had once helda commission in the French Navy, from which he doubtless had beenkicked--in disgrace. 

The man was cold, cruel, of a moody disposition, and quick to anger. He had been signed as second officer for this cruise through theintervention of Divine and Clinker. He had sailed with Simms before, butthe skipper had found him too hard a customer to deal with, and hadbeen on the point of seeking another second when Divine and Clinkerdiscovered him on board the Halfmoon and after ten minutes' conversationwith him found that he fitted so perfectly into their scheme of actionthat they would not hear of Simms' releasing him. 

Ward had little use for the Frenchman, whose haughty manner andcondescending airs grated on the sensibilities of the uncouth andboorish first officer. The duty which necessitated him acting in thecapacity of Theriere's servant was about as distasteful to him asanything could be, and only served to add to his hatred for theinferior, who, in the bottom of his heart, he knew to be in every way, except upon the roster of the Halfmoon, his superior; but money can workwonders, and Divine's promise that the officers and crew of the Halfmoonwould have a cool million United States dollars to divide among them incase of the success of the venture had quite effectually overcome anydislike which Mr. Ward had felt for this particular phase of his duty. 

The two officers sat in silence in their room at the hotel awaitingan answer to the note they had dispatched to Anthony Harding, Esq. The parts they were to act had been carefully rehearsed on board theHalfmoon many times. Each was occupied with his own thoughts, andas they had nothing in common outside the present rascality that hadbrought them together, and as that subject was one not well to discussmore than necessary, there seemed no call for conversation. 

On board the yacht in the harbor preparations were being made to land asmall party that contemplated a motor trip up the Nuuanu Valley whena small boat drew alongside, and a messenger from the hotel handed asealed note to one of the sailors. 

From the deck of the Halfmoon Skipper Simms witnessed the transaction, smiling inwardly. Billy Byrne also saw it, but it meant nothing to him. He had been lolling upon the deck of the brigantine glaring at the yachtLotus, hating her and the gay, well-dressed men and women he couldsee laughing and chatting upon her deck. They represented to himthe concentrated essence of all that was pusillanimous, disgusting, loathsome in that other world that was as far separated from him asthough he had been a grubworm in the manure pile back of Brady's liverystable. 

He saw the note handed by the sailor to a gray-haired, smooth-facedman--a large, sleek, well-groomed man. Billy could imagine the whitehands and polished nails of him. The thought was nauseating. 

The man who took and opened the note was Anthony Harding, Esq. He readit, and then passed it to a young woman who stood near-by talking withother young people. 

"Here, Barbara, " he said, "is something of more interest to you than tome. If you wish I'll call upon him and invite him to dinner tonight. "

The girl was reading the note. 

Anthony Harding, Esq. 

On Board Yacht Lotus, Honolulu

My dear Mr. Harding:

This will introduce a very dear friend of mine, Count de Cadenet, whoexpects to be in Honolulu about the time that you are there. The countis traveling for pleasure, and as he is entirely unacquainted uponthe islands any courtesies which you may show him will be greatlyappreciated. 

 Cordially, L. CORTWRITE DIVINE. 

The girl smiled as she finished perusing the note. 

"Larry is always picking up titles and making dear friends of them, " shelaughed. "I wonder where he found this one. "

"Or where this one found him, " suggested Mr. Harding. "Well, I supposethat the least we can do is to have him aboard for dinner. We'll beleaving tomorrow, so there won't be much entertaining we can do. "

"Let's pick him up on our way through town now, " suggested BarbaraHarding, "and take him with us for the day. That will be settling ourdebt to friendship, and dinner tonight can depend upon what sort ofperson we find the count to be. "

"As you will, " replied her father, and so it came about that two bigtouring cars drew up before the Count de Cadenet's hotel half an hourlater, and Anthony Harding, Esq. , entered and sent up his card. 

The "count" came down in person to greet his caller. Harding saw at aglance that the man was a gentleman, and when he had introduced him tothe other members of the party it was evident that they appraised himquite as had their host. Barbara Harding seemed particularly taken withthe Count de Cadenet, insisting that he join those who occupied hercar, and so it was that the second officer of the Halfmoon rode out ofHonolulu in pleasant conversation with the object of his visit to theisland. 

Barbara Harding found De Cadenet an interesting man. There was nocorner of the globe however remote with which he was not to some degreefamiliar. He was well read, and possessed the ability to discuss whathe had read intelligently and entertainingly. There was no evidence ofmoodiness in him now. He was the personification of affability, for washe not monopolizing the society of a very beautiful, and very wealthyyoung lady?

The day's outing had two significant results. It put into the head ofthe second mate of the Halfmoon that which would have caused his skipperand the retiring Mr. Divine acute mental perturbation could they haveguessed it; and it put De Cadenet into possession of information whichnecessitated his refusing the urgent invitation to dine upon the yacht, Lotus, that evening--the information that the party would sail thefollowing morning en route to Manila. 

"I cannot tell you, " he said to Mr. Harding, "how much I regretthe circumstance that must rob me of the pleasure of accepting yourinvitation. Only absolute necessity, I assure you, could prevent mebeing with you as long as possible, " and though he spoke to the girl'sfather he looked directly into the eyes of Barbara Harding. 

A young woman of less experience might have given some outwardindication of the effect of this speech upon her, but whether she waspleased or otherwise the Count de Cadenet could not guess, for shemerely voiced the smiling regrets that courtesy demanded. 

They left De Cadenet at his hotel, and as he bid them farewell the manturned to Barbara Harding with a low aside. 

"I shall see you again, Miss Harding, " he said, "very, very soon. "

She could not guess what was in his mind as he voiced this rather, underthe circumstances, unusual statement. Could she have, the girl wouldhave been terror-stricken; but she saw that in his eyes which she couldtranslate, and she wondered many times that evening whether she werepleased or angry with the message it conveyed. 

The moment De Cadenet entered the hotel he hurried to the room where theimpatient Mr. Ward awaited him. 

"Quick!" he cried. "We must bundle out of here posthaste. They sailtomorrow morning. Your duties as valet have been light and short-lived;but I can give you an excellent recommendation should you desire to takeservice with another gentleman. "

"That'll be about all of that, Mr. Theriere, " snapped the firstofficer, coldly. "I did not embark upon this theatrical enterprise foramusement--I see nothing funny in it, and I wish you to remember that Iam still your superior officer. "

Theriere shrugged. Ward did not chance to catch the ugly look in hiscompanion's eye. Together they gathered up their belongings, descendedto the office, paid their bill, and a few moments later were changingback to their sea clothes in the little hotel where they first hadengaged accommodations. Half an hour later they stepped to the deck ofthe Halfmoon. 

Billy Byrne saw them from where he worked in the vicinity of the cabin. When they were not looking he scowled maliciously at them. They werethe personal representatives of authority, and Billy hated authority inwhatever guise it might be visited upon him. He hated law and order anddiscipline. 

"I'd like to meet one of dem guys on Green Street some night, " hethought. 

He saw them enter the captain's cabin with the skipper, and then he sawMr. Divine join them. Billy noted the haste displayed by the four and itset him to wondering. The scrap of conversation between Divine and Simmsthat he had overheard returned to him. He wanted to hear more, and asBilly was not handicapped by any overly refined notions of the ethicswhich frown upon eavesdropping he lost no time in transferring the sceneof his labors to a point sufficiently close to one of the cabin ports topermit him to note what took place within. 

What the mucker beard of that conversation made him prick up his ears. He saw that something after his own heart was doing--something crooked, and he wondered that so pusillanimous a thing as Divine could havea hand in it. It almost changed his estimate of the passenger of theHalfmoon. 

The meeting broke up so suddenly that Billy had to drop to his knees toescape the observation of those within the cabin. As it was, Theriere, who had started to leave a second before the others, caught a fleetingglimpse of a face that quickly had been withdrawn from the cabinskylight as though its owner were fearful of detection. 

Without a word to his companions the Frenchman left the cabin, but onceoutside he bounded up the companionway to the deck with the speed of asquirrel. Nor was he an instant too soon, for as he emerged from belowhe saw the figure of a man disappearing forward. 

"Hey there, you!" he cried. "Come back here. "

The mucker turned, a sulky scowl upon his lowering countenance, andthe second officer saw that it was the fellow who had given Ward such atrimming the first day out. 

"Oh, it's you is it, Byrne?" he said in a not unpleasant tone. "Cometo my quarters a moment, I want to speak with you, " and so saying hewheeled about and retraced his way below, the seaman at his heels. 

"My man, " said Theriere, once the two were behind the closed door ofthe officer's cabin, "I needn't ask how much you overheard of theconversation in the captain's cabin. If you hadn't overheard a greatdeal more than you should you wouldn't have been so keen to escapedetection just now. What I wanted to say to you is this. Keep a closetongue in your head and stick by me in what's going to happen in thenext few days. This bunch, " he jerked his thumb in the direction ofthe captain's cabin, "are fixing their necks for halters, an' I for onedon't intend to poke my head through any noose of another man's making. There's more in this thing if it's handled right, and handled withouttoo many men in on the whack-up than we can get out of it if that manDivine has to be counted in. I've a plan of my own, an' it won't takebut three or four of us to put it across. 

"You don't like Ward, " he continued, "and you may be almighty sure thatMr. Ward ain't losing any sleep nights over love of you. If you stick tothat bunch Ward will do you out of your share as sure as you are a foothigh, an' the chances are that he'll do you out of a whole lot morebesides--as a matter of fact, Byrne, you're a mighty poor life insurancerisk right now, with a life expectancy that's pretty near minus as longas Bender Ward is on the same ship with you. Do you understand what Imean?"

"Aw, " said Billy Byrne, "I ain't afraid o' that stiff. Let him makeany funny crack at me an' I'll cave in a handful of slats for him--thepiker. "

"That's all right too, Byrne, " said Theriere. "Of course you can do itif anybody can, provided you get the chance; but Ward isn't the man togive you any chance. There may be shooting necessary within the next dayor so, and there's nothing to prevent Ward letting you have it in theback, purely by accident; and if he don't do it then there'll be allkinds of opportunities for it before any of us ever see a white man'sport again. He'll get you, Byrne, he's that kind. 

"Now, with my proposition you'll be shut of Ward, Skipper Simms, andDivine. There'll be more money in it for you, an' you won't have to goaround expecting a bullet in the small of your back every minute. Whatdo you say? Are you game, or shall I have to go back to Skipper Simmsand Ward and tell them that I caught you eavesdropping?"

"Oh, I'm game, " said Billy Byrne, "if you'll promise me a square deal onthe divvy. "

The Frenchman extended his hand. 

"Let's shake on it, " he said. 

Billy took the proffered palm in his. 

"That's a go, " he said; "but hadn't you better wise me to wot's doin'?"

"Not now, " said Theriere, "someone might overhear just as you did. Waita bit until I have a better opportunity, and I'll tell you all there isto know. In the meantime think over who'd be the best men to let intothis with us--we'll need three or four more besides ourselves. Now go ondeck about your duties as though nothing had happened, and if I'm a bitrougher than usual with you you'll understand that it's to avert anypossible suspicion later. "

"I'm next, " said Billy Byrne. 

CHAPTER IV. PIRACY

BY DUSK the trim little brigantine was scudding away toward the westbefore a wind that could not have suited her better had it been made toorder at the special behest of the devil himself to speed his minionsupon their devil's work. 

All hands were in the best of humor. The crew had forgotten their recentrancor at not having been permitted shore leave at Honolulu in theexpectancy of adventure in the near future, for there was that inthe atmosphere of the Halfmoon which proclaimed louder than words theproximity of excitement, and the goal toward which they had been sailingsince they left San Francisco. 

Skipper Simms and Divine were elated at the luck which had broughtthem to Honolulu in the nick of time, and at the success of Theriere'smission at that port. They had figured upon a week at least there beforethe second officer of the Halfmoon could ingratiate himself sufficientlyinto the goodwill of the Hardings to learn their plans, and now theywere congratulating themselves upon their acumen in selecting so fit anagent as the Frenchman for the work he had handled so expeditiously andso well. 

Ward was pleased that he had not been forced to prolong the gallingmasquerade of valet to his inferior officer. He was hopeful, too, thatcoming events would bring to the fore an opportunity to satisfy thevengeance he had inwardly sworn against the sailor who had so roughlymanhandled him a few weeks past--Theriere had not been in error in hisestimate of his fellow-officer. 

Billy Byrne, the arduous labor of making sail over for the time, wasdevoting his energies to the task of piecing out from what Theriere hadtold him and what he had overheard outside the skipper's cabin some sortof explanation of the work ahead. 

As he pondered Theriere's proposition he saw the wisdom of it. It wouldgive those interested a larger amount of the booty for their share. Another feature of it was that it was underhanded and that appealedstrongly to the mucker. Now, if he could but devise some scheme fordouble-crossing Theriere the pleasure and profit of the adventure wouldbe tripled. 

It was this proposition that was occupying his attention when he caughtsight of "Bony" Sawyer and "Red" Sanders emerging from the forecastle. Billy Byrne hailed them. 

When the mucker had explained the possibilities of profit that were tobe had by entering the conspiracy aimed at Simms and Ward the two seamenwere enthusiastically for it. 

"Bony" Sawyer suggested that the black cook, Blanco, was about the onlyother member of the crew upon whom they could depend, and at Byrne'srequest "Bony" promised to enlist the cooperation of the giantEthiopian. 

From early morning of the second day out of Honolulu keen eyes scannedthe eastern horizon through powerful glasses, until about two bellsof the afternoon watch a slight smudge became visible about two pointsnorth of east. Immediately the course of the Halfmoon was altered sothat she bore almost directly north by west in an effort to come safelyinto the course of the steamer which was seen rising rapidly above thehorizon. 

The new course of the brigantine was held as long as it seemedreasonably safe without danger of being sighted under full sail by theoncoming vessel, then her head was brought into the wind, and one by oneher sails were lowered and furled, as the keen eyes of Second OfficerTheriere announced that there was no question but that the white hull inthe distance was that of the steam pleasure yacht Lotus. 

Upon the deck of the unsuspecting vessel a merry party laughed andchatted in happy ignorance of the plotters in their path. It was nearlyhalf an hour after the Halfmoon had come to rest, drifting idly underbare poles, that the lookout upon the Lotus sighted her. 

"Sailin' vessel lyin' to, west half south, " he shouted, "flyin' distresssignals. "

In an instant guests and crew had hurried to points of vantage wherethey might obtain unobstructed view of the stranger, and take advantageof this break in the monotony of a long sea voyage. 

Anthony Harding was on the bridge with the captain, and both men hadleveled their glasses upon the distant ship. 

"Can you make her out?" asked the owner. 

"She's a brigantine, " replied the officer, "and all that I can make outfrom here would indicate that everything was shipshape about her. Hercanvas is neatly furled, and she is evidently well manned, for I can seea number of figures above deck apparently engaged in watching us. I'llalter our course and speak to her--we'll see what's wrong, and give hera hand if we can. "

"That's right, " replied Harding; "do anything you can for them. "

A moment later he joined his daughter and their guests to report themeager information he had. 

"How exciting, " exclaimed Barbara Harding. "Of course it's not a realshipwreck, but maybe it's the next thing to it. The poor souls may havebeen drifting about here in the center of the Pacific without food orwater for goodness knows how many weeks, and now just think how theymust be lifting their voices in thanks to God for his infinite mercy inguiding us to them. "

"If they've been drifting for any considerable number of weeks withoutfood or water, " hazarded Billy Mallory, "about the only things they'llneed'll be what we didn't have the foresight to bring along--anundertaker and a preacher. "

"Don't be horrid, Billy, " returned Miss Harding. "You know perfectlywell that I didn't mean weeks--I meant days; and anyway they'll begrateful to us for what we can do for them. I can scarcely wait to heartheir story. "

Billy Mallory was inspecting the stranger through Mr. Harding's glass. Suddenly he gave an exclamation of dismay. 

"By George!" he cried. "It is serious after all. That ship's afire. Look, Mr. Harding, " and he passed the glass over to his host. 

And sure enough, as the owner of the Lotus found the brigantine againin the center of his lens he saw a thin column of black smoke risingamidships; but what he did not see was Mr. Ward upon the opposite sideof the Halfmoon's cabin superintending the burning by the black cook ofa bundle of oily rags in an iron boiler. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Harding. "This is terrible. The poor devilsare panic-stricken. Look at 'em making for the boats!" and with that hedashed back to the bridge to confer with his captain. 

"Yes, " said that officer, "I noticed the smoke about the same time youdid--funny it wasn't apparent before. I've already signaled full speedahead, and I've instructed Mr. Foster to have the boats in readiness tolower away if we find that they're short of boats on the brigantine. 

"What I can't understand, " he added after a moment's silence, "is whythey didn't show any signs of excitement about that fire until we camewithin easy sight of them--it looks funny. "

"Well, we'll know in a few minutes more, " returned Mr. Harding. "The chances are that the fire is just a recent addition to theirpredicament, whatever it may be, and that they have only just discoveredit themselves. "

"Then it can't have gained enough headway, " insisted the captain, "tocause them any such immediate terror as would be indicated by the hastewith which the whole ship's crew is tumbling into those boats; but asyou say, sir, we'll have their story out of them in a few minutes now, so it's idle speculating beforehand. "

The officers and men of the Halfmoon, in so far as those on board theLotus could guess, had all entered the boats at last, and were pullingfrantically away from their own ship toward the rapidly nearing yacht;but what they did not guess and could not know was that Mr. Divine pacednervously to and fro in his cabin, while Second Officer Theriere tendedthe smoking rags that Ward and Blanco had resigned to him that theymight take their places in the boats. 

Theriere had been greatly disgusted with the turn events had taken forhe had determined upon a line of action that he felt sure would provehighly remunerative to himself. It had been nothing less than a boldresolve to call Blanco, Byrne, "Bony, " and "Red" to his side the momentSimms and Ward revealed the true purpose of their ruse to those on boardthe Lotus, and with his henchmen take sides with the men of the yachtagainst his former companions. 

As he had explained it to Billy Byrne the idea was to permit Mr. Hardingto believe that Theriere and his companions had been duped by SkipperSimms--that they had had no idea of the work that they were to be calledupon to perform until the last moment and that then they had done theonly thing they could to protect the passengers and crew of the Lotus. 

"And then, " Theriere had concluded, "when they think we are a band ofheroes, and the best friends they have on earth we'll just naturally bein a position to grab the whole lot of them, and collect ransoms on tenor fifteen instead of just one. "

"Bully!" exclaimed the mucker. "You sure got some bean, mate. "

As a matter of fact Theriere had had no intention of carrying the matteras far as he had intimated to Billy except as a last resort. He had beenmightily smitten by the face and fortune of Barbara Harding and had seenin the trend of events a possible opportunity of so deeply obligatingher father and herself that when he paid court to her she might fall awilling victim to his wiles. In this case he would be obliged to risknothing, and could make away with his accomplices by explaining toMr. Harding that he had been compelled to concoct this other scheme toobtain their assistance against Simms and Ward; then they could throwthe three into irons and all would be lovely; but now that fool Wardhad upset the whole thing by hitting upon this asinine fire hoax asan excuse for boarding the Lotus in force, and had further dampenedTheriere's pet scheme by suggesting to Skipper Simms the danger ofTheriere being recognized as they were boarding the Lotus and bringingsuspicion upon them all immediately. 

They all knew that a pleasure yacht like the Lotus was well suppliedwith small arms, and that at the first intimation of danger there wouldbe plenty of men aboard to repel assault, and, in all probability, withentire success. 

That there were excellent grounds for Theriere's belief that he couldwin Barbara Harding's hand with such a flying start as his daringplan would have assured him may not be questioned, for the man wascultivated, polished and, in a sinister way, good-looking. The titlethat he had borne upon the occasion of his visit to the yacht, was, allunknown to his accomplices, his by right of birth, so that there wasnothing other than a long-dead scandal in the French Navy that mighthave proved a bar to an affiance such as he dreamed of. And now to bethwarted at the last moment! It was unendurable. That pig of a Ward hadsealed his own death warrant, of that Theriere was convinced. 

The boats were now quite close to the yacht, which had slowed downalmost to a dead stop. In answer to the query of the Lotus' captainSkipper Simms was explaining their trouble. 

"I'm Captain Jones, " he shouted, "of the brigantine Clarinda, Friscoto Yokohama with dynamite. We disabled our rudder yesterday, an' thisafternoon fire started in the hold. It's makin' headway fast now, an'llreach the dynamite most any time. You'd better take us aboard, an' getaway from here as quick as you can. 'Tain't safe nowhere within fivehun'erd fathom of her. "

"You'd better make haste, Captain, hadn't you?" suggested Mr. Harding. 

"I don't like the looks of things, sir, " replied that officer. "Sheain't flyin' any dynamite flag, an' if she was an' had a hold fullthere wouldn't be any particular danger to us, an' anyone that hasever shipped dynamite would know it, or ought to. It's not fire thatdetonates dynamite, it's concussion. No sir, Mr. Harding, there'ssomething queer here--I don't like the looks of it. Why just take a goodlook at the faces of those men. Did you ever see such an ugly-lookingpack of unhung murderers in your life, sir?"

"I must admit that they're not an overly prepossessing crowd, Norris, "replied Mr. Harding. "But it's not always either fair or safe to judgestrangers entirely by appearances. I'm afraid that there's nothing elsefor it in the name of common humanity than to take them aboard, Norris. I'm sure your fears are entirely groundless. "

"Then it's your orders, sir, to take them aboard?" asked Captain Norris. 

"Yes, Captain, I think you'd better, " said Mr. Harding. 

"Very good, sir, " replied the officer, turning to give the necessarycommands. 

The officers and men of the Halfmoon swarmed up the sides of the Lotus, dark-visaged, fierce, and forbidding. 

"Reminds me of a boarding party of pirates, " remarked Billy Mallory, as he watched Blanco, the last to throw a leg over the rail, reach thedeck. 

"They're not very pretty, are they?" murmured Barbara Harding, instinctively shrinking closer to her companion. 

"'Pretty' scarcely describes them, Barbara, " said Billy; "and do youknow that somehow I am having difficulty in imagining them on theirknees giving up thanks to the Lord for their rescue--that was yourrecent idea of 'em, you will recall. "

"If you have purposely set yourself the task of being more thanordinarily disagreeable today, Billy, " said Barbara sweetly, "I'm sureit will please you to know that you are succeeding. "

"I'm glad I'm successful at something then, " laughed the man. "I'vecertainly been unsuccessful enough in another matter. "

"What, for example?" asked Barbara, innocently. 

"Why in trying to make myself so agreeable heretofore that you'd finallyconsent to say 'yes' for a change. "

"Now you are going to make it all the worse by being stupid, " cried thegirl petulantly. "Why can't you be nice, as you used to be before yougot this silly notion into your head?"

"I don't think it's a silly notion to be head over heels in love withthe sweetest girl on earth, " cried Billy. 

"Hush! Someone will hear you. "

"I don't care if they do. I'd like to advertise it to the whole world. I'm proud of the fact that I love you; and you don't care enough aboutit to realize how really hard I'm hit--why I'd die for you, Barbara, andwelcome the chance; why--My God! What's that?"

"O Billy! What are those men doing?" cried the girl. "They're shooting. They're shooting at papa! Quick, Billy! Do something. For heaven's sakedo something. "

On the deck below them the "rescued" crew of the "Clarinda" hadsurrounded Mr. Harding, Captain Norris, and most of the crew of theLotus, flashing quick-drawn revolvers from beneath shirts and coats, andfiring at two of the yacht's men who showed fight. 

"Keep quiet, " commanded Skipper Simms, "an' there won't none of you gethurted. "

"What do you want of us?" cried Mr. Harding. "If it's money, take whatyou can find aboard us, and go on your way. No one will hinder you. "

Skipper Simms paid no attention to him. His eyes swept aloft to theupper deck. There he saw a wide-eyed girl and a man looking down uponthem. He wondered if she was the one they sought. There were other womenaboard. He could see them, huddled frightened behind Harding and Norris. Some of them were young and beautiful; but there was something aboutthe girl above him that assured him she could be none other than BarbaraHarding. To discover the truth Simms resorted to a ruse, for he knewthat were he to ask Harding outright if the girl were his daughter thechances were more than even that the old man would suspect something ofthe nature of their visit and deny her identity. 

"Who is that woman you have on board here?" he cried in an accusing toneof voice. "That's what we're a-here to find out. "

"Why she's my daughter, man!" blurted Harding. "Who did you--"

"Thanks, " said Skipper Simms, with a self-satisfied grin. "That's whatI wanted to be sure of. Hey, you, Byrne! You're nearest thecompanionway--fetch the girl. "

At the command the mucker turned and leaped up the stairway to the upperdeck. Billy Mallory had overheard the conversation below and Simms'command to Byrne. Disengaging himself from Barbara Harding who in herterror had clutched his arm, he ran forward to the head of the stairway. 

The men of the Lotus looked on in mute and helpless rage. All werecovered by the guns of the boarding party--the still forms of twoof their companions bearing eloquent witness to the slenderness ofprovocation necessary to tighten the trigger fingers of the beastsstanding guard over them. 

Billy Byrne never hesitated in his rush for the upper deck. The sight ofthe man awaiting him above but whetted his appetite for battle. Thetrim flannels, the white shoes, the natty cap, were to the mucker assufficient cause for justifiable homicide as is an orange ribbon incertain portions of the West Side of Chicago on St. Patrick's Day. Aswere "Remember the Alamo, " and "Remember the Maine" to the fightingmen of the days that they were live things so were the habiliments ofgentility to Billy Byrne at all times. 

Billy Mallory was an older man than the mucker--twenty-four perhaps--andfully as large. For four years he had played right guard on a greateastern team, and for three he had pulled stroke upon the crew. Duringthe two years since his graduation he had prided himself upon themaintenance of the physical supremacy that had made the name of Malloryfamous in collegiate athletics; but in one vital essential he washopelessly handicapped in combat with such as Billy Byrne, for Mallorywas a gentleman. 

As the mucker rushed upward toward him Mallory had all the advantage ofposition and preparedness, and had he done what Billy Byrne would havedone under like circumstances he would have planted a kick in the midstof the mucker's facial beauties with all the power and weight and energyat his command; but Billy Mallory could no more have perpetrated acowardly trick such as this than he could have struck a woman. 

Instead, he waited, and as the mucker came on an even footing with himMallory swung a vicious right for the man's jaw. Byrne ducked beneaththe blow, came up inside Mallory's guard, and struck him three timeswith trip-hammer velocity and pile-driver effectiveness--once upon thejaw and twice--below the belt!

The girl, clinging to the rail, riveted by the paralysis of fright, sawher champion stagger back and half crumple to the deck. Then she saw himmake a brave and desperate rally, as, though torn with agony, he lurchedforward in an endeavor to clinch with the brute before him. Again themucker struck his victim--quick choppy hooks that rocked Mallory's headfrom side to side, and again the brutal blow below the belt; but withthe tenacity of a bulldog the man fought for a hold upon his foe, and atlast, notwithstanding Byrne's best efforts, he succeeded in closing withthe mucker and dragging him to the deck. 

Here the two men rolled and tumbled, Byrne biting, gouging, and kickingwhile Mallory devoted all of his fast-waning strength to an effort toclose his fingers upon the throat of his antagonist. But the terriblepunishment which the mucker had inflicted upon him overcame him at last, and as Byrne felt the man's efforts weakening he partially disengagedhimself and raising himself upon one arm dealt his now almostunconscious enemy a half-dozen frightful blows upon the face. 

With a shriek Barbara Harding turned from the awful sight as BillyMallory's bloody and swollen eyes rolled up and set, while the muckerthrew the inert form roughly from him. Quick to the girl's memory sprangMallory's recent declaration, which she had thought at the time but theempty, and vainglorious boasting of the man in love--"Why I'd die foryou, Barbara, and welcome the chance!"

"Poor boy! How soon, and how terribly has the chance come!" moaned thegirl. 

Then a rough hand fell upon her arm. 

"Here, youse, " a coarse voice yelled in her ear. "Come out o' detrance, " and at the same time she was jerked roughly toward thecompanionway. 

Instinctively the girl held back, and then the mucker, true to histraining, true to himself, gave her arm a sudden twist that wrenched ascream of agony from her white lips. 

"Den come along, " growled Billy Byrne, "an' quit dis monkey business, orI'll sure twist yer flipper clean off'n yeh. "

With an oath, Anthony Harding sprang forward to protect his daughter;but the butt of Ward's pistol brought him unconscious to the deck. 

"Go easy there, Byrne, " shouted Skipper Simms; "there ain't no call toinjure the hussy--a corpse won't be worth nothing to us. "

In mute terror the girl now permitted herself to be led to the deckbelow. Quickly she was lowered into a waiting boat. Then Skipper Simmsordered Ward to search the yacht and remove all firearms, after whichhe was to engage himself to navigate the vessel with her own crew underarmed guard of half a dozen of the Halfmoon's cutthroats. 

These things attended to, Skipper Simms with the balance of his own crewand six of the crew of the Lotus to take the places upon the brigantineof those left as a prize crew aboard the yacht returned with the girl tothe Halfmoon. 

The sailing vessel's sails were soon hoisted and trimmed, and in halfan hour, followed by the Lotus, she was scudding briskly southward. Forforty-eight hours this course was held until Simms felt assured thatthey were well out of the lane of regular trans-Pacific traffic. 

During this time Barbara Harding had been kept below, locked in a small, untidy cabin. She had seen no one other than a great Negro who broughther meals to her three times daily--meals that she returned scarcelytouched. 

Now the Halfmoon was brought up into the wind where she lay withflapping canvas while Skipper Simms returned to the Lotus with the sixmen of the yacht's crew that he had brought aboard the brigantine withhim two days before, and as many more of his own men. 

Once aboard the Lotus the men were put to work with those already on theyacht. The boat's rudder was unshipped and dropped into the ocean; herfires were put out; her engines were attacked with sledges until theywere little better than so much junk, and to make the slender chances ofpursuit that remained to her entirely nil every ounce of coal upon herwas shoveled into the Pacific. Her extra masts and spare sails followedthe way of the coal and the rudder, so that when Skipper Simms and FirstOfficer Ward left her with their own men that had been aboard her shewas little better than a drifting derelict. 

From her cabin window Barbara Harding had witnessed the wanton wreckingof her father's yacht, and when it was over and the crew of thebrigantine had returned to their own ship she presently felt themovement of the vessel as it got under way, and soon the Lotus droppedto the stern and beyond the range of her tiny port. With a moan ofhopelessness and terror the girl sank prostrate across the hard berththat spanned one end of her prison cell. 

How long she lay there she did not know, but finally she was aroused bythe opening of her cabin door. As she sprang to her feet ready to defendherself against what she felt might easily be some new form of dangerher eyes went wide in astonishment as they rested on the face of the manwho stood framed in the doorway of her cabin. 

"You?" she cried. 

CHAPTER V. LARRY DIVINE UNMASKED

"YES, Barbara, it is I, " said Mr. Divine; "and thank God that I amhere to do what little any man may do against this band of murderingpirates. "

"But, Larry, " cried the girl, in evident bewilderment, "how did you cometo be aboard this ship? How did you get here? What are you doing amongstsuch as these?"

"I am a prisoner, " replied the man, "just as are you. I think theyintend holding us for ransom. They got me in San Francisco. Slugged meand hustled me aboard the night before they sailed. "

"Where are they going to take us?" she asked. 

"I do not know, " he replied, "although from something I have overheardof their conversations I imagine that they have in mind some distantisland far from the beaten track of commerce. There are thousands suchin the Pacific that are visited by vessels scarce once in a century. There they will hold us until they can proceed with the ship to somepoint where they can get into communication with their agents in theStates. When the ransom is paid over to these agents they will returnfor us and land us upon some other island where our friends can find us, or leaving us where we can divulge the location of our whereabouts tothose who pay the ransom. "

The girl had been looking intently at Mr. Divine during theirconversation. 

"They cannot have treated you very badly, Larry, " she said. "You are aswell groomed and well fed, apparently, as ever. "

A slight flush mounting to the man's face made the girl wonder a bitthough it aroused no suspicion in her mind. 

"Oh, no, " he hastened to assure her, "they have not treated me at allbadly--why should they? If I die they can collect no ransom on me. Itis the same with you, Barbara, so I think you need apprehend no harshtreatment. "

"I hope you are right, Larry, " she said, but the hopelessness of her airrather belied any belief that aught but harm could come from captivitywith such as those who officered and manned the Halfmoon. 

"It seems so remarkable, " she went on, "that you should be a prisonerupon the same boat. I cannot understand it. Why only a few days ago wereceived and entertained a friend of yours who brought a letter from youto papa--the Count de Cadenet. "

Again that telltale flush mantled the man's cheek. He cursed himselfinwardly for his lack of self-control. The girl would have his wholesecret out of him in another half-hour if he were not more careful. 

"They made me do that, " he said, jerking his thumb in the generaldirection of Skipper Simms' cabin. "Maybe that accounts for theirbringing me along. The 'Count de Cadenet' is a fellow named Theriere, second mate of this ship. They sent him to learn your plans; when youexpected sailing from Honolulu and your course. They are all crooks andvillains. If I hadn't done as they bid they would have killed me. "

The girl made no comment, but Divine saw the contempt in her face. 

"I didn't know that they were going to do this. If I had I'd have diedbefore I'd have written that note, " he added rather lamely. 

The girl was suddenly looking very sad. She was thinking of BillyMallory who had died in an effort to save her. The mental comparison shewas making between him and Mr. Divine was not overly flattering to thelatter gentleman. 

"They killed poor Billy, " she said at last. "He tried to protect me. "

Then Mr. Divine understood the trend of her thoughts. He tried to findsome excuse for his cowardly act; but with the realization of the truecowardliness and treachery of it that the girl didn't even guess heunderstood the futility of seeking to extenuate it. He saw that thechances were excellent that after all he would be compelled to resort toforce or threats to win her hand at the last. 

"Billy would have done better to have bowed to the inevitable as Idid, " he said. "Living I am able to help you now. Dead I could not haveprevented them carrying out their intentions any more than Billy has, nor could I have been here to aid you now any more than he is. I cannotsee that his action helped you to any great extent, brave as it was. "

"The memory of it and him will always help me, " she answered quietly. "They will help me to bear whatever is before me bravely, and, when thetime comes, to die bravely; for I shall always feel that upon the otherside a true, brave heart is awaiting me. "

The man was silent. After a moment the girl spoke again. "I think Iwould rather be alone, Larry, " she said. "I am very unhappy and nervous. Possibly I could sleep now. "

With a bow he turned and left the cabin. 

For weeks the Halfmoon kept steadily on her course, a little south ofwest. There was no material change in the relations of those aboardher. Barbara Harding, finding herself unmolested, finally acceded to therepeated pleas of Mr. Divine, to whose society she had been driven byloneliness and fear, and appeared on deck frequently during the daylightwatches. Here, one afternoon, she came face to face with Therierefor the first time since her abduction. The officer lifted his capdeferentially; but the girl met his look of expectant recognition witha cold, blank stare that passed through and beyond him as though he hadbeen empty air. 

A tinge of color rose to the man's face, and he continued on his way fora moment as though content to accept her rebuff; but after a step or twohe turned suddenly and confronted her. 

"Miss Harding, " he said, respectfully, "I cannot blame you for thefeeling of loathing and distrust you must harbor toward me; but incommon justice I think you should hear me before finally condemning. "

"I cannot imagine, " she returned coldly, "what defense there can be forthe cowardly act you perpetrated. "

"I have been utterly deceived by my employers, " said Theriere, hasteningto take advantage of the tacit permission to explain which her replycontained. "I was given to understand that the whole thing was to be buta hoax--that I was taking part in a great practical joke that Mr. Divinewas to play upon his old friends, the Hardings and their guests. Untilthey wrecked and deserted the Lotus in mid-ocean I had no idea thatanything else was contemplated, although I felt that the matter, evenbefore that event, had been carried quite far enough for a joke. 

"They explained, " he continued, "that before sailing you had expressedthe hope that something really exciting and adventurous would befallthe party--that you were tired of the monotonous humdrum oftwentieth-century existence--that you regretted the decadence of piracy, and the expunging of romance from the seas. 

"Mr. Divine, they told me, was a very wealthy young man, to whom youwere engaged to be married, and that he could easily afford thegreat expense of the rather remarkable hoax we were supposed to beperpetrating. I saw no harm in taking part in it, especially as I knewnothing of the supposititious purpose of the cruise until just before wereached Honolulu. Before that I had been led to believe that it was buta pleasure trip to the South Pacific that Mr. Divine intended. 

"You see, Miss Harding, that I have been as badly deceived as you. Won'tyou let me help to atone for my error by being your friend? I can assureyou that you will need one whom you can trust amongst this shipload ofscoundrels. "

"Who am I to believe?" cried the girl. "Mr. Divine assures me that he, too, has been forced into this affair, but by threats of death ratherthan deception. "

The expression on Mr. Theriere's face was eloquent of sarcasticincredulity. 

"How about the note of introduction that I carried to your father fromMr. Divine?" asked Theriere. 

"He says that he was compelled to write it at the point of a revolver, "replied the girl. 

"Come with me, Miss Harding, " said the officer. "I think that I may beable to convince you that Mr. Divine is not on any such bad terms withSkipper Simms as would be the case were his story to you true. "

As he spoke he started toward the companionway leading to the officers'cabins. Barbara Harding hesitated at the top of the stairway. 

"Have no fear, Miss Harding, " Theriere reassured her. "Remember thatI am your friend and that I am merely attempting to prove it to yourentire satisfaction. You owe it to yourself to discover as soon aspossible who your friends are aboard this ship, and who your enemies. "

"Very well, " said the girl. "I can be in no more danger one place aboardher than another. "

Theriere led her directly to his own cabin, cautioning her to silencewith upraised forefinger. Softly, like skulking criminals, they enteredthe little compartment. Then Theriere turned and closed the door, slipping the bolt noiselessly as he did so. Barbara watched him, herheart beating rapidly with fear and suspicion. 

"Here, " whispered Theriere, motioning her toward his berth. "I havefound it advantageous to know what goes on beyond this partition. Youwill find a small round hole near the head of the berth, about a footabove the bedding. Put your ear to it and listen--I think Divine is inthere now. "

The girl, still frightened and fearful of the man's intentions, did, nevertheless, as he bid. At first she could make out nothing beyond thepartition but a confused murmur of voices, and the clink of glass, asof the touch of the neck of a bottle against a goblet. For a moment sheremained in tense silence, her ear pressed to the tiny aperture. Then, distinctly, she heard the voice of Skipper Simms. 

"I'm a-tellin' you, man, " he was saying, "that there wan't nothin' elseto be done, an' I'm a-gettin' damn sick o' hearin' you finding fault allthe time with the way I been a-runnin' o' this little job. "

"I'm not finding fault, Simms, " returned another voice which the girlrecognized immediately as Divine's; "although I do think that it was amistake to so totally disable the Lotus as you did. Why, how on earthare we ever to return to civilization if that boat is lost? Had she beensimply damaged a little, in a way that they could themselves have fixedup, the delay would have been sufficient to permit us to escape, andthen, when Miss Harding was returned in safety to her father, after ourmarriage, they would have been so glad to be reunited that he easilycould have been persuaded to drop the matter. Then another thing; youintended to demand a ransom for both Miss Harding and myself, to carryout the fiction of my having been stolen also--how can you do that ifMr. Harding be dead? And do you suppose for a moment that Miss Hardingwill leave a single stone unturned to bring the guilty to justice if anyharm has befallen her father or his guests? If so you do not know her aswell as I. "

The girl turned away from the partition, her face white and drawn, hereyes inexpressibly sad. She rose to her feet, facing Theriere. 

"I have heard quite enough, thank you, Mr. Theriere, " she said. 

"You are convinced then that I am your friend?" he asked. 

"I am convinced that Mr. Divine is not, " she replied non-committally. 

She took a step toward the door. Theriere stood looking at her. She wasunquestionably very good to look at. He could not remember ever havingseen a more beautiful girl. A great desire to seize her in his armsswept over the man. Theriere had not often made any effort to harnesshis desires. What he wanted it had been his custom to take--by forceif necessary. He took a step toward Barbara Harding. There was a suddenlight in his eyes that the girl had not before seen there, and shereached quickly toward the knob of the door. 

Theriere was upon her, and then, quickly, he mastered himself, for herecalled his coolly thought-out plan based on what Divine had told himof that clause in the will of the girl's departed grandparent whichstipulated that the man who shared the bequest with her must be thechoice of both herself and her father. He could afford to bide his time, and play the chivalrous protector before he essayed the role of lover. 

Barbara had turned a half-frightened look toward him as he advanced--indoubt as to his intentions. 

"Pardon me, Miss Harding, " he said; "the door is bolted--let me unlatchit for you, " and very gallantly he did so, swinging the portal wide thatshe might pass out. "I feared interruption, " he said, in explanation ofthe bolt. 

In silence they returned to the upper deck. The intoxication of suddenpassion now under control, Theriere was again master of himself andready to play the cold, calculating, waiting game that he had determinedupon. Part of his plan was to see just enough of Miss Harding to insurea place in her mind at all times; but not enough to suggest that he wasforcing himself upon her. Rightly, he assumed that she would appreciatethoughtful deference to her comfort and safety under the harrowingconditions of her present existence more than a forced companionshipthat might entail too open devotion on his part. And so he raised hiscap and left her, only urging her to call upon him at any time that hemight be of service to her. 

Left alone the girl became lost in unhappy reflections, and in theharrowing ordeal of attempting to readjust herself to the knowledge thatLarry Divine, her lifelong friend, was the instigator of the atrociousvillainy that had been perpetrated against her and her father. She foundit almost equally difficult to believe that Mr. Theriere was so muchmore sinned against than sinning as he would have had her believe. Andyet, did his story not sound even more plausible than that of Divinewhich she had accepted before Theriere had made it possible for her toknow the truth? Why, then, was it so difficult for her to believe theFrenchman? She could not say, but in the inmost recesses of her heartshe knew that she mistrusted and feared the man. 

As she stood leaning against the rail, buried deep in thought, BillyByrne passed close behind her. At sight of her a sneer curled his lip. How he hated her! Not that she ever had done aught to harm him, butrather because she represented to him in concrete form all that he hadlearned to hate and loathe since early childhood. 

Her soft, white skin; her shapely hands and well-cared-for nails;her trim figure and perfectly fitting suit all taunted him with theirsuperiority over him and his kind. He knew that she looked down upon himas an inferior being. She was of the class that addressed those in hiswalk of life as "my man. " Lord, how he hated that appellation!

The intentness of his gaze upon her back had the effect so often notedby the observant, and suddenly aroused from the lethargy of hermisery the girl swung around to meet the man's eyes squarely upon her. Instantly she recognized him as the brute who had killed Billy Mallory. If there had been hate in the mucker's eyes as he looked at the girl, itwas as nothing by comparison with the loathing and disgust which sprangto hers as they rested upon his sullen face. 

So deep was her feeling of contempt for this man, that the suddenappearance of him before her startled a single exclamation from her. 

"Coward!" came the one word, involuntarily, from her lips. 

The man's scowl deepened menacingly. He took a threatening step towardher. 

"Wot's dat?" he growled. "Don't get gay wit me, or I'll black dem lampsfer yeh, " and he raised a heavy fist as though to strike her. 

The mucker had looked to see the girl cower before his threatenedblow--that would have been ample atonement for her insult, and wouldhave appealed greatly to his Kelly-gang sense of humor. Many a timehad he threatened women thus, for the keen enjoyment of hearing theirscreams of fright and seeing them turn and flee in terror. When they hadheld their ground and opposed him, as some upon the West Side had feltsufficiently muscular to do, the mucker had not hesitated to "hand themone. " Thus only might a man uphold his reputation for bravery in thevicinage of Grand Avenue. 

He had looked to see this girl of the effete and effeminate upper classswoon with terror before him; but to his intense astonishment she butstood erect and brave before him, her head high held, her eyes cold andlevel and unafraid. And then she spoke again. 

"Coward!" she said. 

Billy almost struck her; but something held his hand. What, he could notunderstand. Could it be that he feared this slender girl? And at thisjuncture, when the threat of his attitude was the most apparent, Second Officer Theriere came upon the scene. At a glance he took in thesituation, and with a bound had sprung between Billy Byrne and BarbaraHarding. 

CHAPTER VI. THE MUCKER AT BAY

"WHAT has this man said to you, Miss Harding?" cried Theriere. "Has heoffered you harm?"

"I do not think that he would have dared strike me, " replied the girl, "though he threatened to do so. He is the coward who murdered poor Mr. Mallory upon the Lotus. He might stoop to anything after that. "

Theriere turned angrily upon Byrne. 

"Go below!" he shouted. "I'll attend to you later. If Miss Harding werenot here I'd thrash you within an inch of your life now. And if Iever hear of your speaking to her again, or offering her the slightestindignity I'll put a bullet through you so quick you won't know what hasstruck you. "

"T'ell yeh will!" sneered Billy Byrne. "I got your number, yeh bigstiff; an' yeh better not get gay wit me. Dey ain't no guy on board disman's ship dat can hand Billy Byrne dat kin' o' guff an' get away withit--see?" and before Theriere knew what had happened a heavy fist hadcaught him upon the point of the chin and lifted him clear off the deckto drop him unconscious at Miss Harding's feet. 

"Yeh see wot happens to guys dat get gay wit me?" said the mucker to thegirl, and then stooping over the prostrate form of the mate Billy Byrnewithdrew a huge revolver from Theriere's hip pocket. 

"I guess I'll need dis gat in my business purty soon, " he remarked. 

Then he planted a vicious kick in the face of the unconscious man andwent his way to the forecastle. 

"Now maybe she'll tink Billy Byrne's a coward, " he thought, as hedisappeared below. 

Barbara Harding stood speechless with shock at the brutality andferocity of the unexpected attack upon Theriere. Never in all her lifehad she dreamed that there could exist upon the face of the earth athing in human form so devoid of honor, and chivalry, and fair playas the creature that she had just witnessed threatening a defenselesswoman, and kicking an unconscious man in the face; but then BarbaraHarding had never lived between Grand Avenue and Lake Street, andHalsted and Robey, where standards of masculine bravery are strange andfearful. 

When she had recovered her equanimity she hastened to the head of thecabin companionway and called aloud for help. Instantly Skipper Simmsand First Officer Ward rushed on deck, each carrying a revolver inreadiness for the conflict with their crew that these two worthies werealways expecting. 

Barbara pointed out the still form of Theriere, quickly explaining whathad occurred. 

"It was the fellow Byrne who did it, " she said. "He has gone into theforecastle now, and he has a revolver that he took from Mr. Theriereafter he had fallen. "

Several of the crew had now congregated about the prostrate officer. 

"Here you, " cried Skipper Simms to a couple of them; "you take Mr. Theriere below to his cabin, an' throw cold water in his face. Mr. Ward, get some brandy from my locker, an' try an' bring him to. The rest ofyou arm yourselves with crowbars and axes, an' see that that son of asea cook don't get out on deck again alive. Hold him there 'til I get acouple of guns. Then we'll get him, damn him!"

Skipper Simms hastened below while two of the men were carrying Theriereto his cabin and Mr. Ward was fetching the brandy. A moment laterBarbara Harding saw the skipper return to the upper deck with a rifleand two revolvers. The sailors whom he had detailed to keep Byrne belowwere gathered about the hatchway leading to the forecastle. Some of themwere exchanging profane and pleasant badinage with the prisoner. 

"Yeh better come up an' get killed easy-like;" one called down to themucker. "We're apt to muss yeh all up down there in the dark with thesehere axes and crowbars, an' then wen we send yeh home yer pore maw won'tknow her little boy at all. "

"Yeh come on down here, an' try mussin' me up, " yelled back Billy Byrne. "I can lick de whole gang wit one han' tied behin' me--see?"

"De skipper's gorn to get his barkers, Billy, " cried Bony Sawyer. "Yehbetter come up an' stan' trial if he gives yeh the chanct. "

"Stan' nothin', " sneered Billy. "Swell chanct I'd have wit him an'Squint Eye holdin' court over me. Not on yer life, Bony. I'm here, an'here I stays till I croaks, but yeh better believe me, I'm goin, tocroak a few before I goes, so if any of you ginks are me frien's yehbetter keep outen here so's yeh won't get hurted. An' anudder ting I'mgoin' to do afore I cashes in--I'm goin' to put a few of dem ginks inde cabin wise to where dey stands wit one anudder. If I don't startsomething before I goes out me name's not Billy Byrne. "

At this juncture Skipper Simms appeared with the three weapons he hadgone to his cabin to fetch. He handed one to Bony Sawyer, another to RedSanders and a third to a man by the name of Wison. 

"Now, my men, " said Skipper Simms, "we will go below and bring Byrne up. Bring him alive if you can--but bring him. "

No one made a move to enter the forecastle. 

"Go on now, move quickly, " commanded Skipper Simms sharply. 

"Thought he said 'we', " remarked one of the sailors. 

Skipper Simms, livid with rage, turned to search out the offender fromthe several men behind him. 

"Who was that?" he roared. "Show me the blitherin' swab. Jes' show himto me, I tell you, an I'll learn him. Now you, " he yelled at the top ofhis voice, turning again to the men he had ordered into the forecastleafter Billy Byrne, "you cowardly landlubbers you, get below there quickafore I kick you below. "

Still no one moved to obey him. From white he went to red, and then backto white again. He fairly frothed at the mouth as he jumped up and down, cursing the men, and threatening. But all to no avail. They would notgo. 

"Why, Skipper, " spoke up Bony Sawyer, "it's sure death for any man asgoes below there. It's easier, an' safer, to starve him out. "

"Starve nothin', " shrieked Skipper Simms. "Do you reckon I'm a-goin' tosit quiet here for a week an' let any blanked wharf rat own that therefo'c's'le just because I got a lot o' white-livered cowards aboard? Nosir! You're a-goin' down after that would-be bad man an' fetch him updead or alive, " and with that he started menacingly toward the threewho stood near the hatch, holding their firearms safely out of range ofBilly Byrne below. 

What would have happened had Skipper Simms completed the threateningmaneuver he had undertaken can never be known, for at this momentTheriere pushed his way through the circle of men who were interestedspectators of the impending tragedy. 

"What's up, sir?" he asked of Simms. "Anything that I can help youwith?"

"Oh!" exclaimed the skipper; "so you ain't dead after all, eh? Wellthat don't change the looks of things a mite. We gotta get that man outathere an' these flea-bitten imitations of men ain't got the guts to goin after him. "

"He's got your gun, sir, " spoke up Wison, "an' Gawd knows he be the oneas'ud on'y be too glad for the chanct to use it. "

"Let me see if I can't handle him, sir, " said Theriere to Skipper Simms. "We don't want to lose any men if we can help it. "

The skipper was only too glad to welcome this unexpected rescue fromthe predicament in which he had placed himself. How Theriere was toaccomplish the subjugation of the mutinous sailor he could not guess, nor did he care so long as it was done without risk to his own skin. 

"Now if you'll go away, sir, " said Theriere, "and order the men awayI'll see what I can do. "

Skipper Simms did as Theriere had requested, so that presently theofficer stood alone beside the hatch. Across the deck, amidships, themen had congregated to watch Theriere's operations, while beyond themstood Barbara Harding held fascinated by the grim tragedy that wasunfolding before her upon this accursed vessel. 

Theriere leaned over the open hatch, in full view of the waiting Byrne, ready below. There was the instant report of a firearm and a bulletwhizzed close past Theriere's head. 

"Avast there, Byrne!" he shouted. "It's I, Theriere. Don't shoot again, I want to speak to you. "

"No monkey business now, " growled the mucker in reply. "I won't missagain. "

"I want to talk with you, Byrne, " said Theriere in a low tone. "I'mcoming down there. "

"No you ain't, cul, " returned Byrne; "leastways yeh ain't a-comin' downhere alive. "

"Yes I am, Byrne, " replied Theriere, "and you don't want to be foolishabout it. I'm unarmed. You can cover me with your gun until you havesatisfied yourself as to that. I'm the only man on the ship that cansave your life--the only man that has any reason to want to; but we'vegot to talk it over and we can't talk this way where there's a chance ofbeing overheard. I'll be on the square with you if you will with me, and if we can't come to terms I'll come above again and you won't beany worse off than you are now. Here I come, " and without waiting for anacceptance of his proposition the second officer of the Halfmoon slippedover the edge of the hatchway and disappeared from the sight of thewatchers above. 

That he was a brave man even Billy Byrne had to admit, and those abovewho knew nothing of the relations existing between the second mate andthe sailor, who had so recently felled him, thought that his courage waslittle short of marvelous. Theriere's stock went up by leaps and boundsin the estimation of the sailors of the Halfmoon, for degraded thoughthey were they could understand and appreciate physical courage of thissort, while to Barbara Harding the man's act seemed unparalleled in itsutter disregard of the consequences of life and death to himself that itentailed. She suddenly was sorry that she had entertained any suspicionsagainst Theriere--so brave a man could not be other than the soul ofhonor, she argued. 

Once below Theriere found himself covered by his own revolver in thehands of a very desperate and a very unprincipled man. He smiled atByrne as the latter eyed him suspiciously. 

"See here, Byrne, " said Theriere. "It would be foolish for me to saythat I am doing this for love of you. The fact is that I need you. Wecannot succeed, either one of us, alone. I think you made a fool playwhen you hit me today. You know that our understanding was that I wasto be even a little rougher with you than usual, in order to avoidsuspicion being attached to any seeming familiarity between us, shouldwe be caught conferring together. I had the chance to bawl you outtoday, and I thought that you would understand that I was but takingadvantage of the opportunity which it afforded to make it plain to MissHarding that there could be nothing other than hatred between us--itmight have come in pretty handy later to have her believe that. 

"If I'd had any idea that you really intended hitting me you'd have beena dead man before your fist reached me, Byrne. You took me entirelyby surprise; but that's all in the past--I'm willing to let bygones bebygones, and help you out of the pretty pickle you've got yourself into. Then we can go ahead with our work as though nothing had happened. Whatdo you say?"

"I didn't know yeh was kiddin, " replied the mucker, "or I wouldn't havehit yeh. Yeh acted like yeh meant it. "

"Very well, that part's understood, " said Theriere. "Now will you comeout if I can square the thing with the skipper so's you won't get morethan a day or so in irons--he'll have to give you something to save hisown face; but I promise that you'll get your food regularly and that youwon't be beaten up the way you were before when he had you below. If hewon't agree to what I propose I give you my word to tell you so. "

"Go ahead, " said Billy Byrne; "I don't trust nobody wen I don't have to;but I'll be dinged if I see any other way out of it. "

Theriere returned to the deck and seeking out the skipper drew him toone side. 

"I can get him up peaceably if I can assure him that he'll only get aday or so in the cooler, with full rations and no beatings. I think, sir, that that will be the easiest way out of it. We cannot spare aman now--if we want to get the fellow later we can always find somepretext. "

"Very well, Mr. Theriere, " replied the skipper, "I'll leave the matterentirely in your hands--you can do what you want with the fellow; it'syou as had your face punched. "

Theriere returned immediately to the forecastle, from which he presentlyemerged with the erstwhile recalcitrant Byrne, and for two days thelatter languished in durance vile, and that was the end of the episode, though its effects were manifold. For one thing it implanted in theheart of Theriere a personal hatred for the mucker, so that whileheretofore his intention of ridding himself of the man when he no longerneeded him was due purely to a matter of policy, it was now reinforcedby a keen desire for personal revenge. The occurrence had also had itsinfluence upon Barbara Harding, in that it had shown her Mr. Therierein a new light--one that reflected credit upon him. She had thought hismagnanimous treatment of the sailor little short of heroic; and ithad deepened the girl's horror of Billy Byrne until it now amounted tolittle short of an obsession. So vivid an impression had his brutalitymade upon her that she would start from deep slumber, dreaming that shewas menaced by him. 

After Billy was released for duty following his imprisonment, he severaltimes passed the girl upon deck. He noticed that she shrank from himin disgust and terror; but what surprised him was that instead of thethrill of pride which he formerly would have felt at this acknowledgmentof his toughness, for Billy prided himself on being a tough, he now felta singular resentment against the girl for her attitude, so that he cameto hate her even more than he had before hated. Formerly he had hatedher for the things she stood for, now he hated her for herself. 

Theriere was often with her now, and, less frequently, Divine; forat the second officer's suggestion Barbara had not acquainted thatgentleman with the fact that she was aware of his duplicity. 

"It is just as well not to let him know, " said Theriere. "It gives youan advantage that would be wanting should he suspect the truth, so thatnow you are always in a position to be warned in plenty of time againstany ulterior suggestion he may make. Keep me posted as to all he tellsyou of his plans, and in this way we can defeat him much more easilythan as though you followed your natural inclinations and refused tohold communication of any sort with him. It might be well, Miss Harding, even to encourage him in the hope that you will wed him voluntarily. Ithink that that would throw him entirely off his guard, and pave the wayfor your early release. "

"Oh, I doubt if I could do that, Mr. Theriere, " exclaimed the girl. "You cannot imagine how I loathe the man now that I know him in his truecolors. For years he has importuned me to marry him, and though I nevercared for him in that way at all, and never could, I felt that he wasa very good friend and that his constancy demanded some return on mypart--my friendship and sympathy at least; but now I shiver whenever heis near me, just as I would were I to find a snake coiled close besideme. I cannot abide treachery. "

"Nor I, Miss Harding, " agreed Theriere glibly. "The man deserves nothingbut your contempt, though for policy's sake I hope that you will findit possible to lead him on until his very treachery proves the meansof your salvation, for believe me, if he has been false to you how muchmore quickly will he be false to Simms and Ward! He would ditch them ina minute if the opportunity presented itself for him to win youwithout their aid. I had thought it might be feasible to lead him intoattempting to take the ship by force, and return you to San Francisco, or, better still possibly, to the nearest civilized port. 

"You might, with propriety suggest this to him, telling him that youbelieve that I would stand ready to assist in the undertaking. I canpromise you the support of several of the men--quite a sufficientnumber with Divine and myself, easily to take the Halfmoon away from herpresent officers. "

"I will think over your suggestion, Mr. Theriere, " replied Barbara, "andI thank you for the generous impulse that has prompted you to befriendme--heaven knows how badly I need a friend now among so many enemies. What is it, Mr. Theriere? What is the matter?"

The officer had turned his eyes casually toward the southeast as thegirl spoke, and just now he had given a sudden exclamation of surpriseand alarm. 

"That cloud, Miss Harding, " he answered. "We're in for a bad blow, andit'll be on us in a minute, " and with that he started forward on a run, calling back over his shoulder, "you'd better go below at once. "

CHAPTER VII. THE TYPHOON

THE storm that struck the Halfmoon took her entirely unaware. It hadsprung, apparently, out of a perfectly clear sky. Both the lookout andthe man at the wheel were ready to take oath that they had scanned thehorizon not a half-minute before Second Mate Theriere had come racingforward bellowing for all hands on deck and ordering a sailor below toreport the menacing conditions to Captain Simms. 

Before that officer reached the deck Theriere had the entire crew alofttaking in sail; but though they worked with the desperation of doomedmen they were only partially successful in their efforts. 

The sky and sea had assumed a sickly yellowish color, except for themighty black cloud that raced toward them, low over the water. The lowmoaning sound that had followed the first appearance of the storm, gaveplace to a sullen roar, and then, of a sudden, the thing struck theHalfmoon, ripping her remaining canvas from her as if it had beenwrought from tissue paper, and with the flying canvas, spars, andcordage went the mainmast, snapping ten feet above the deck, andcrashing over the starboard bow with a noise and jar that rose above thebellowing of the typhoon. 

Fully half the crew of the Halfmoon either went down with the fallingrigging or were crushed by the crashing weight of the mast as it hurtledagainst the deck. Skipper Simms rushed back and forth screaming outcurses that no one heeded, and orders that there was none to fill. 

Theriere, on his own responsibility, looked to the hatches. Ward with ahandful of men armed with axes attempted to chop away the wreckage, forthe jagged butt of the fallen mast was dashing against the ship's sidewith such vicious blows that it seemed but a matter of seconds ere itwould stave a hole in her. 

With the utmost difficulty a sea anchor was rigged and tumbled overthe Halfmoon's pitching bow into the angry sea, that was rising to moregigantic proportions with each succeeding minute. This frail makeshiftwhich at best could but keep the vessel's bow into the wind, saving herfrom instant engulfment in the sea's trough, seemed to Theriere but asorry means of prolonging the agony of suspense preceding the inevitableend. That nothing could save them was the second officer's firm belief, nor was he alone in his conviction. Not only Simms and Ward, but everyexperienced sailor on the ship felt that the life of the Halfmoon wasnow but a matter of hours, possibly minutes, while those of lesserexperience were equally positive that each succeeding wave must mark thetermination of the lives of the vessel and her company. 

The deck, washed now almost continuously by hurtling tons of storm-madwater, as one mountainous wave followed another the length of the ship, had become entirely impossible. With difficulty the men were attemptingto get below between waves. All semblance of discipline had vanished. For the most part they were a pack of howling, cursing, terror-riddenbeasts, fighting at the hatches with those who would have held themclosed against the danger of each new assault of the sea. 

Ward and Skipper Simms had been among the first to seek the precarioussafety below deck. Theriere alone of the officers had remained on dutyuntil the last, and now he was exerting his every faculty in the effortto save as many of the men as possible without losing the ship in thedoing of it. Only between waves was the entrance to the main cabinsnegotiable, while the forecastle hatch had been abandoned entirely afterit had with difficulty been replaced following the retreat of three ofthe crew to that part of the ship. 

The mucker stood beside Theriere as the latter beat back the men whenthe seas threatened. It was the man's first experience of the kind. Never had he faced death in the courage-blighting form which the grimharvester assumes when he calls unbridled Nature to do his ghastlybidding. The mucker saw the rough, brawling bullies of the forecastlereduced to white-faced, gibbering cowards, clawing and fighting to climbover one another toward the lesser danger of the cabins, while the matefought them off, except as he found it expedient to let them pass him;he alone cool and fearless. 

Byrne stood as one apart from the dangers and hysteric strivings ofhis fellows. Once when Theriere happened to glance in his directionthe Frenchman mentally ascribed the mucker's seeming lethargy to theparalysis of abject cowardice. "The fellow is in a blue funk, " thoughtthe second mate; "I did not misjudge him--like all his kind he is acoward at heart. "

Then a great wave came, following unexpectedly close upon the heels ofa lesser one. It took Theriere off his guard, threw him down and hurtledhim roughly across the deck, landing him in the scuppers, bleeding andstunned. The next wave would carry him overboard. 

Released from surveillance the balance of the crew pushed and foughttheir way into the cabin--only the mucker remained without, staringfirst at the prostrate form of the mate and then at the open cabinhatch. Had one been watching him he might reasonably have thought thatthe man's mind was in a muddle of confused thoughts and fears; but suchwas far from the case. Billy was waiting to see if the mate would revivesufficiently to return across the deck before the next wave swept theship. It was very interesting--he wondered what odds O'Leary would havelaid against the man. 

In another moment the wave would come. Billy glanced at the open cabinhatch. That would never do--the cabin would be flooded with tons ofwater should the next wave find the hatch still open. Billy closedit. Then he looked again toward Theriere. The man was just recoveringconsciousness--and the wave was coming. 

Something stirred within Billy Byrne. It gripped him and made him actquickly as though by instinct to do something that no one, Billy himselfleast of all, would have suspected that the Grand Avenue mucker wouldhave been capable of. 

Across the deck Theriere was dragging himself painfully to his hands andknees, as though to attempt the impossible feat of crawling back to thecabin hatch. The wave was almost upon Billy. In a moment it would engulfhim, and then rush on across him to tear Theriere from the deck and hurlhim beyond the ship into the tumbling, watery, chaos of the sea. 

The mucker saw all this, and in the instant he launched himself towardthe man for whom he had no use, whose kind he hated, reaching him asthe great wave broke over them, crushing them to the deck, choking andblinding them. 

For a moment they were buried in the swirling maelstrom, and then as theHalfmoon rose again, shaking the watery enemy from her back, the two menwere disclosed--Theriere half over the ship's side--the mucker clingingto him with one hand, the other clutching desperately at a huge cleatupon the gunwale. 

Byrne dragged the mate to the deck, and then slowly and with infinitedifficulty across it to the cabin hatch. Through it he pushed the man, tumbling after him and closing the aperture just as another wave sweptthe Halfmoon. 

Theriere was conscious and but little the worse for his experience, though badly bruised. He looked at the mucker in astonishment as the twofaced each other in the cabin. 

"I don't know why you did it, " said Theriere. 

"Neither do I, " replied Billy Byrne. 

"I shall not forget it, Byrne, " said the officer. 

"Yeh'd better, " answered Billy, turning away. 

The mucker was extremely puzzled to account for his act. He did not lookupon it at all as a piece of heroism; but rather as a "fool play" whichhe should be ashamed of. The very idea! Saving the life of a gink who, despite his brutal ways, belonged to the much-despised "highbrow" class. Billy was peeved with himself. 

Theriere, for his part, was surprised at the unexpected heroism of theman he had long since rated as a cowardly bully. He was fully determinedto repay Byrne in so far as he could the great debt he owed him. Allthoughts of revenge for the mucker's former assault upon him weredropped, and he now looked upon the man as a true friend and ally. 

For three days the Halfmoon plunged helplessly upon the storm-wrackedsurface of the mad sea. No soul aboard her entertained more than thefaintest glimmer of a hope that the ship would ride out the storm; butduring the third night the wind died down, and by morning the sea hadfallen sufficiently to make it safe for the men of the Halfmoon toventure upon deck. 

There they found the brigantine clean-swept from stem to stern. Tothe north of them was land at a league or two, perhaps. Had the stormcontinued during the night they would have been dashed upon the coast. God-fearing men would have given thanks for their miraculous rescue;but not so these. Instead, the fear of death removed, they assumed theirformer bravado. 

Skipper Simms boasted of the seamanship that had saved the Halfmoon--hisown seamanship of course. Ward was cursing the luck that had disabledthe ship at so crucial a period of her adventure, and revolving in hisevil mind various possible schemes for turning the misfortune to hisown advantage. Billy Byrne, sitting upon the corner of the galleytable, hobnobbed with Blanco. These choice representatives of the ship'scompany were planning a raid on the skipper's brandy chest during thedisembarkation which the sight of land had rendered not improbable. 

The Halfmoon, with the wind down, wallowed heavily in the trough of thesea, but even so Barbara Harding, wearied with days of confinement inher stuffy cabin below, ventured above deck for a breath of sweet, cleanair. 

Scarce had she emerged from below than Theriere espied her, and hastenedto her side. 

"Well, Miss Harding, " he exclaimed, "it seems good to see you on deckagain. I can't tell you how sorry I have felt for you cooped up alonein your cabin without a single woman for companionship, and all thosefrightful days of danger, for there was scarce one of us that thoughtthe old hooker would weather so long and hard a blow. We were mightyfortunate to come through it so handily. "

"Handily?" queried Barbara Harding, with a wry smile, glancing aboutthe deck of the Halfmoon. "I cannot see that we are either through ithandily or through it at all. We have no masts, no canvas, no boats;and though I am not much of a sailor, I can see that there is littlelikelihood of our effecting a landing on the shore ahead either with orwithout boats---it looks most forbidding. Then the wind has gone down, and when it comes up again it is possible that it will carry us awayfrom the land, or if it takes us toward it, dash us to pieces at thefoot of those frightful cliffs. "

"I see you are too good a sailor by far to be cheered by anyquestionable hopes, " laughed Theriere; "but you must take the willinto consideration--I only wished to give you a ray of hope that mightlighten your burden of apprehension. However, honestly, I do think thatwe may find a way to make a safe landing if the sea continues to godown as it has in the past two hours. We are not more than a league fromshore, and with the jury mast and sail that the men are setting underMr. Ward now we can work in comparative safety with a light breeze, which we should have during the afternoon. There are few coasts, howeverrugged they may appear at a distance, that do not offer some footholdfor the wrecked mariner, and I doubt not but that we shall find this noexception to the rule. "

"I hope you are right, Mr. Theriere, " said the girl, "and yet I cannotbut feel that my position will be less safe on land than it has beenupon the Halfmoon. Once free from the restraints of discipline whichtradition, custom, and law enforce upon the high seas there is notelling what atrocities these men will commit. To be quite candid, Mr. Theriere, I dread a landing worse than I dreaded the dangers of thestorm through which we have just passed. "

"I think you have little to fear on that score, Miss Harding, " said theFrenchman. "I intend making it quite plain that I consider myself yourprotector once we have left the Halfmoon, and I can count on several ofthe men to support me. Even Mr. Divine will not dare do otherwise. Thenwe can set up a camp of our own apart from Skipper Simms and his factionwhere you will be constantly guarded until succor may be obtained. "

Barbara Harding had been watching the man's face as he spoke. The memoryof his consideration and respectful treatment of her during the tryingweeks of her captivity had done much to erase the intuitive feelingof distrust that had tinged her thoughts of him earlier in theiracquaintance, while his heroic act in descending into the forecastlein the face of the armed and desperate Byrne had thrown a glamour ofromance about him that could not help but tend to fascinate a girl ofBarbara Harding's type. Then there was the look she had seen in his eyesfor a brief instant when she had found herself locked in his cabin onthe occasion that he had revealed to her Larry Divine's duplicity. Thatexpression no red-blooded girl could mistake, and the fact that he hadsubdued his passion spoke eloquently to the girl of the finenessand chivalry of his nature, so now it was with a feeling of uttertrustfulness that she gladly gave herself into the keeping of HenriTheriere, Count de Cadenet, Second Officer of the Halfmoon. 

"O Mr. Theriere, " she cried, "if you only can but arrange it so, howrelieved and almost happy I shall be. How can I ever repay you for allthat you have done for me?"

Again she saw the light leap to the man's eyes--the light of a lovethat would not be denied much longer other than through the agency of amighty will. Love she thought it; but the eye-light of love and lust aretwin lights between which it takes much worldly wisdom to differentiate, and Barbara Harding was not worldly-wise in the ways of sin. 

"Miss Harding, " said Theriere, in a voice that he evidently found itdifficult to control, "do not ask me now how you may repay me; I--;" butwhat he would have said he checked, and with an effort of will that wasalmost appreciable to the eye he took a fresh grip upon himself, andcontinued: "I am amply repaid by being able to serve you, and thus toretrieve myself in your estimation--I know that you have doubted me;that you have questioned the integrity of my acts that helped to leadup to the unfortunate affair of the Lotus. When you tell me that youno longer doubt--that you accept me as the friend I would wish to be, Ishall be more than amply repaid for anything which it may have beenmy good fortune to have been able to accomplish for your comfort andsafety. "

"Then I may partially repay you at once, " exclaimed the girl with asmile, "for I can assure you that you possess my friendship to thefullest, and with it, of course, my entire confidence. It is true thatI doubted you at first--I doubted everyone connected with the Halfmoon. Why shouldn't I? But now I think that I am able to draw a very clearline between my friends and my enemies. There is but one upon the rightside of that line--you, my friend, " and with an impulsive little gestureBarbara Harding extended her hand to Theriere. 

It was with almost a sheepish expression that the Frenchman took theproffered fingers, for there had been that in the frank avowal ofconfidence and friendship which smote upon a chord of honor in the man'ssoul that had not vibrated in response to a chivalrous impulse for somany long years that it had near atrophied from disuse. 

Then, of a sudden, the second officer of the Halfmoon straightened tohis full height. His head went high, and he took the small hand of thegirl in his own strong, brown one. 

"Miss Harding, " he said, "I have led a hard, bitter life. I have notalways done those things of which I might be most proud: but therehave been times when I have remembered that I am the grandson of one ofNapoleon's greatest field marshals, and that I bear a name that has beenhonored by a mighty nation. What you have just said to me recalls thesefacts most vividly to my mind--I hope, Miss Harding, that you will neverregret having spoken them, " and to the bottom of his heart the man meantwhat he said, at the moment; for inherent chivalry is as difficult tosuppress or uproot as is inherent viciousness. 

The girl let her hand rest in his for a moment, and as their eyes metshe saw in his a truth and honesty and cleanness which revealedwhat Theriere might have been had Fate ordained his young manhood todifferent channels. And in that moment a question sprang, all unbiddenand unforeseen to her mind; a question which caused her to withdraw herhand quickly from his, and which sent a slow crimson to her cheek. 

Billy Byrne, slouching by, cast a bitter look of hatred upon the two. The fact that he had saved Theriere's life had not increased his lovefor that gentleman. He was still much puzzled to account for the strangeidiocy that had prompted him to that act; and two of his fellows hadfelt the weight of his mighty fist when they had spoken words of roughpraise for his heroism--Billy had thought that they were kidding him. 

To Billy the knocking out of Theriere, and the subsequent kick whichhe had planted in the unconscious man's face, were true indications ofmanliness. He gauged such matters by standards purely Grand Avenuesqueand now it enraged him to see that the girl before whose very eyes hehad demonstrated his superiority over Theriere should so look with favorupon the officer. 

It did not occur to Billy that he would care to have the girl look withfavor upon him. Such a thought would have sent him into a berserkerrage; but the fact remained that Billy felt a strong desire to cut outTheriere's heart when he saw him now in close converse with BarbaraHarding--just why he felt so Billy could not have said. The truth ofthe matter is that Billy was far from introspective; in fact he did verylittle thinking. His mind had never been trained to it, as his muscleshad been trained to fighting. Billy reacted more quickly to instinctthan to the processes of reasoning, and on this account it was difficultfor him to explain any great number of his acts or moods--it is to bedoubted, however, that Billy Byrne had ever attempted to get at thebottom of his soul, if he possessed one. 

Be that as it may, had Theriere known it he was very near death thatmoment when a summons from Skipper Simms called him aft and saved hislife. Then the mucker, unseen by the officer, approached the girl. Inhis heart were rage and hatred, and as the girl turned at the sound ofhis step behind her she saw them mirrored in his dark, scowling face. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE WRECK OF THE "HALFMOON"

INSTANTLY Barbara Harding looked into the face of the mucker she readher danger. Why the man should hate her so she could not guess; butthat he did was evidenced by the malevolent expression of his surlycountenance. For a moment he stood glaring at her, and then he spoke. 

"I'm wise to wot youse an' dat guy was chinnin' about, " he growled, "an'I'm right here to tell youse dat you don't wanta try an' put nothin'over on me, see? Youse ain't a-goin' to double-cross Billy Byrne. Igotta good notion to han' youse wot's comin' to you. If it hadn't beenfer youse I wouldn't have been here now on dis Gawd-forsaken wreck. Youse is de cause of all de trouble. Wot youse ought to get is croakedan' den dere wouldn't be nothin' to bother any of us. You an' yer bunchof kale, dey give me a swift pain. Fer half a cent I'd soak youse awallop to de solar plexus dat would put youse to sleep fer de longcount, you--you--" but here words failed Billy. 

To his surprise the girl showed not the slightest indication of fear. Her head was high, and her level gaze never wavered from his own eyes. Presently a sneer of contempt curled her lip. 

"You coward!" she said quietly. "To insult and threaten a woman! You arenothing but an insufferable bully, and a cowardly murderer. You murdereda man on the Lotus whose little finger held more true manhood, bravery, and worth than the whole of your great, hulking carcass. You are onlyfit to strike from behind, or when your victim is unsuspecting, as youdid Mr. Theriere that other day. Do you think I fear a THING such asyou--a beast without honor that kicks an unconscious man in the face?I know that you can kill me. I know that you are coward enough to do itbecause I am a defenseless woman; and though you may kill me, you nevercan make me show fear for you. That is what you wish to do--that is youridea of manliness. I had never imagined that such a thing as you livedin the guise of man; but I have read you, Mr. Byrne, since I have hadoccasion to notice you, and I know now that you are what is known in thegreat cities as a mucker. The term never meant much to me before, but Isee now that it fits your kind perfectly, for in it is all the loathingand contempt that a real man--a gentleman--must feel for such as you. "

As she spoke Billy Byrne's eyes narrowed; but not with the cunning ofpremeditated attack. He was thinking. For the first time in his life hewas thinking of how he appeared in the eyes of another. Never had anyhuman being told Billy Byrne thus coolly and succinctly what sort ofperson he seemed to them. In the heat of anger men of his own stamp hadapplied vile epithets to him, describing him luridly as such that bythe simplest laws of nature he could not possibly be; but this girlhad spoken coolly, and her descriptions had been explicit--backed byillustrations. She had given real reasons for her contempt, and somehowit had made that contempt seem very tangible. 

One who had known Billy would have expected him to fly into a rage andattack the girl brutally after her scathing diatribe. Billy did nothingof the sort. Barbara Harding's words seemed to have taken all the fightout of him. He stood looking at her for a moment--it was one of thestrange contradictions of Billy Byrne's personality that he couldhold his eyes quite steady and level, meeting the gaze of anotherunwaveringly--and in that moment something happened to Billy Byrne'sperceptive faculties. It was as though scales which had dimmed hismental vision had partially dropped away, for suddenly he saw what hehad not before seen--a very beautiful girl, brave and unflinching beforethe brutal menace of his attitude, and though the mucker thought thathe still hated her, the realization came to him that he must not raise ahand against her--that for the life of him he could not, nor ever againagainst any other woman. Why this change, Billy did not know, he simplyknew that it was so, and with an ugly grunt he turned his back upon herand walked away. 

A slight breeze had risen from the southwest since Theriere had leftBarbara Harding and now all hands were busily engaged in completing thejury rigging that the Halfmoon might take advantage of the wind and makethe shore that rose abruptly from the bosom of the ocean but a leagueaway. 

Before the work was completed the wind increased rapidly, so that whenthe tiny bit of canvas was hoisted into position it bellied bravely, andthe Halfmoon moved heavily forward toward the land. 

"We gotta make a mighty quick run of it, " said Skipper Simms to Ward, "or we'll go to pieces on them rocks afore ever we find a landing. "

"That we will if this wind rises much more, " replied Ward; "and's far asI can see there ain't no more chance to make a landing there than therewould be on the side of a house. "

And indeed as the Halfmoon neared the towering cliffs it seemed utterlyhopeless that aught else than a fly could find a foothold upon thatsheer and rocky face that rose abruptly from the ocean's surface. 

Some two hundred yards from the shore it became evident that there wasno landing to be made directly before them, and so the course of theship was altered to carry them along parallel to the shore in an effortto locate a cove, or beach where a landing might safely be effected. 

The wind, increasing steadily, was now whipping the sea into angrybreakers that dashed resoundingly against the rocky barrier of theisland. To drift within reach of those frightful destroyers would meanthe instant annihilation of the Halfmoon and all her company, yet thiswas precisely what the almost unmanageable hulk was doing at the wheelunder the profane direction of Skipper Simms, while Ward and Therierewith a handful of men altered the meager sail from time to time in aneffort to keep the ship off the rocks for a few moments longer. 

The Halfmoon was almost upon the cliff's base when a narrow openingshowed some hundred fathoms before her nose, an opening through whichthe sea ran in long, surging sweeps, rolling back upon itself in angrybreakers that filled the aperture with swirling water and high-flungspume. To have attempted to drive the ship into such a place would havebeen the height of madness under ordinary circumstances. No man knewwhat lay beyond, nor whether the opening carried sufficient water tofloat the Halfmoon, though the long, powerful sweep of the sea as itentered the opening denoted considerable depth. 

Skipper Simms, seeing the grim rocks rising close beside his vessel, realized that naught could keep her from them now. He saw death peeringclose to his face. He felt the icy breath of the Grim Reaper upon hisbrow. A coward at heart, he lost every vestige of his nerve at thiscrucial moment of his life. Leaping from the wheelhouse to the deck heran backward and forward shrieking at the top of his lungs begging andentreating someone to save him, and offering fabulous rewards to the manwho carried him safely to the shore. 

The sight of their captain in a blue funk had its effect upon themajority of the crew, so that in a moment a pack of screaming, terror-ridden men had supplanted the bravos and bullies of the Halfmoon. 

From the cabin companionway Barbara Harding looked upon the disgustingscene. Her lip curled in scorn at the sight of these men weeping andmoaning in their fright. She saw Ward busy about one of the hatches. Itwas evident that he intended making a futile attempt to utilize it as ameans of escape after the Halfmoon struck, for he was attaching ropesto it and dragging it toward the port side of the ship, away from theshore. Larry Divine crouched beside the cabin and wept. 

When Simms gave up the ship Barbara Harding saw the wheelmen, there hadbeen two of them, desert their post, and almost instantly the nose ofthe Halfmoon turned toward the rocks; but scarcely had the men reachedthe deck than Theriere leaped to their place at the wheel. 

Unassisted he could do little with the heavy helm. Barbara saw thathe alone of all the officers and men of the brigantine was making anattempt to save the vessel. However futile the effort might be, it atleast bespoke the coolness and courage of the man. With the sight of himthere wrestling with death in a hopeless struggle a little wave of pridesurged through the girl. Here indeed was a man! And he loved her--thatshe knew. Whether or no she returned his love her place was beside himnow, to give what encouragement and physical aid lay in her power. 

Quickly she ran to the wheelhouse. Theriere saw her and smiled. 

"There's no hope, I'm afraid, " he said; "but, by George, I intend to godown fighting, and not like those miserable yellow curs. "

Barbara did not reply, but she grasped the spokes of the heavy wheel andtugged as he tugged. Theriere made no effort to dissuade her from thestrenuous labor--every ounce of weight would help so much, and the manhad a wild, mad idea that he was attempting to put into effect. 

"What do you hope to do?" asked the girl. "Make that opening in thecliffs?"

Theriere nodded. 

"Do you think me crazy?" he asked. 

"It is such a chance as only a brave man would dare to take, " shereplied. "Do you think that we can get her to take it?"

"I doubt it, " he answered. "With another man at the wheel we might, though. "

Below them the crew of the Halfmoon ran hither and thither along thedeck on the side away from the breakers. They fought with one anotherfor useless bits of planking and cordage. The giant figure of the blackcook, Blanco, rose above the others. In his hand was a huge butcherknife. When he saw a piece of wood he coveted in the hands of another herushed upon his helpless victim with wild, bestial howls, menacing himwith his gleaming weapon. Thus he was rapidly accumulating the materialfor a life raft. 

But there was a single figure upon the deck that did not seem mad withterror. A huge fellow he was who stood leaning against the capstanwatching the wild antics of his fellows with a certain wonderingexpression of incredulity, the while a contemptuous smile curled hislips. As Barbara Harding chanced to look in his direction he alsochanced to turn his eyes toward the wheelhouse. It was the mucker. 

The girl was surprised that he, the greatest coward of them all, shouldbe showing no signs of cowardice now--probably he was paralyzed withfright. The moment that the man saw the two who were in the wheelhouseand the work that they were doing he sprang quickly toward them. At hisapproach the girl shrank closer to Theriere. 

What new outrage did the fellow contemplate? Now he was beside her. Thehabitual dark scowl blackened his expression. He laid a heavy hand onBarbara Harding's arm. 

"Come out o' dat, " he bellowed. "Dat's no kind o' job fer a broiler. "

And before either she or Theriere could guess his intention the muckerhad pushed Barbara aside and taken her place at the wheel. 

"Good for you, Byrne!" cried Theriere. "I needed you badly. "

"Why didn't yeh say so den?" growled the man. 

With the aid of Byrne's Herculean muscles and great weight the bowof the Halfmoon commenced to come slowly around so that presently shealmost paralleled the cliffs again, but now she was much closer in thanwhen Skipper Simms had deserted her to her fate--so close that Therierehad little hope of being able to carry out his plan of taking heropposite the opening and then turning and running her before the windstraight into the swirling waters of the inlet. 

Now they were almost opposite the aperture and between the giant cliffsthat rose on either side of the narrow entrance a sight was revealedthat filled their hearts with renewed hope and rejoicing, for a tinycove was seen to lie beyond the fissure--a cove with a long, wide, sandybeach up which the waves, broken at the entrance to the little haven, rolled with much diminished violence. 

"Can you hold her alone for a second, Byrne?" asked Theriere. "Wemust make the turn in another moment and I've got to let out sail. Theinstant that you see me cut her loose put your helm hard to starboard. She'll come around easy enough I imagine, and then hold her nosestraight for that opening. It's one chance in a thousand; but it's theonly one. Are you game?"

"You know it, cul--go to 't, " was Billy Byrne's laconic rejoinder. 

As Theriere left the wheel Barbara Harding stepped to the mucker's side. 

"Let me help you, " she said. "We need every hand that we can get for thenext few moments. "

"Beat it, " growled the man. "I don't want no skirts in my way. "

With a flush, the girl drew back, and then turning watched Therierewhere he stood ready to cut loose the sail at the proper instant. Thevessel was now opposite the cleft in the cliffs. Theriere had lasheda new sheet in position. Now he cut the old one. The sail swung arounduntil caught in position by the stout line. The mucker threw the helmhard to starboard. The nose of the brigantine swung quickly toward therocks. The sail filled, and an instant later the ship was dashing towhat seemed her inevitable doom. 

Skipper Simms, seeing what Theriere had done after it was too late toprevent it, dashed madly across the deck toward his junior. 

"You fool!" he shrieked. "You fool! What are you doing? Driving usstraight for the rocks--murdering the whole lot of us!" and with thathe sprang upon the Frenchman with maniacal fury, bearing him to the deckbeneath him. 

Barbara Harding saw the attack of the fear-demented man, but she waspowerless to prevent it. The mucker saw it too, and grinned--he hopedthat it would be a good fight; there was nothing that he enjoyed more. He was sorry that he could not take a hand in it, but the wheel demandedall his attention now, so that he was even forced to take his eyes fromthe combatants that he might rivet them upon the narrow entrance to thecove toward which the Halfmoon was now plowing her way at constantlyincreasing speed. 

The other members of the ship's company, all unmindful of the battlethat at another time would have commanded their undivided attention, stood with eyes glued upon the wild channel toward which thebrigantine's nose was pointed. They saw now what Skipper Simms hadfailed to see--the little cove beyond, and the chance for safety thatthe bold stroke offered if it proved successful. 

With steady muscles and giant sinews the mucker stood by thewheel--nursing the erratic wreck as no one might have supposed it was inhim to do. Behind him Barbara Harding watched first Theriere and Simms, and then Byrne and the swirling waters toward which he was heading theship. 

Even the strain of the moment did not prevent her from wondering atthe strange contradictions of the burly young ruffian who could at onemoment show such traits of cowardliness and the next rise so coolly tothe highest pinnacles of courage. As she watched him occasionally nowshe noted for the first time the leonine contour of his head, and shewas surprised to note that his features were regular and fine, andthen she recalled Billy Mallory and the cowardly kick that she had seendelivered in the face of the unconscious Theriere--with a little shudderof disgust she turned away from the man at the wheel. 

Theriere by this time had managed to get on top of Skipper Simms, butthat worthy still clung to him with the desperation of a drowning man. The Halfmoon was rising on a great wave that would bear her well intothe maelstrom of the cove's entrance. The wind had increased to theproportions of a gale, so that the brigantine was fairly racing eitherto her doom or her salvation--who could tell which?

Halfway through the entrance the wave dropped the ship, and with amighty crash that threw Barbara Harding to her feet the vessel struckfull amidships upon a sunken reef. Like a thing of glass she broke intwo with the terrific impact, and in another instant the waters abouther were filled with screaming men. 

Barbara Harding felt herself hurtled from the deck as though shot froma catapult. The swirling waters engulfed her. She knew that her end hadcome, only the most powerful of swimmers might hope to win through thatlashing hell of waters to the beach beyond. For a girl to do it was toohopeless even to contemplate; but she recalled Theriere's words of soshort a time ago: "There's no hope, I'm afraid; but, by George, I intendto go down fighting, " and with the recollection came a like resolveon her part--to go down fighting, and so she struck out against thepowerful waters that swirled her hither and thither, now perilouslyclose to the rocky sides of the entrance, and now into the mad chaos ofthe channel's center. Would to heaven that Theriere were near her, shethought, for if any could save her it would be he. 

Since she had come to believe in the man's friendship and sincerityBarbara Harding had felt renewed hope of eventual salvation, and withthe hope had come a desire to live which had almost been lacking for thegreater part of her detention upon the Halfmoon. 

Bravely she battled now against the awful odds of the mighty Pacific, but soon she felt her strength waning. More and more ineffective becameher puny efforts, and at last she ceased almost entirely the futilestruggle. 

And then she felt a strong hand grasp her arm, and with a sudden surgeshe was swung over a broad shoulder. Quickly she grasped the rough shirtthat covered the back of her would-be rescuer, and then commenced abattle with the waves that for many minutes, that seemed hours to thefrightened girl, hung in the balance; but at last the swimmer beneathher forged steadily and persistently toward the sandy beach to flounderout at last with an unconscious burden in his mighty arms. 

As the man staggered up out of reach of the water Barbara Harding openedher eyes to look in astonishment into the face of the mucker. 

CHAPTER IX. ODA YORIMOTO

ONLY four men of the Halfmoon's crew were lost in the wreck of thevessel. All had been crowded in the bow when the ship broke in two, and being far-flung by the forward part of the brigantine as it lungedtoward the cove on the wave following the one which had dropped thecraft upon the reef, with the exception of the four who had perishedbeneath the wreckage they had been able to swim safely to the beach. 

Larry Divine, who had sat weeping upon the deck of the doomed shipduring the time that hope had been at its lowest, had recovered hispoise. Skipper Simms, subdued for the moment, soon commenced to regainhis bluster. He took Theriere to task for the loss of the Halfmoon. 

"An' ever we make a civilized port, " he shouted, "I'll prefer chargesag'in' you, you swab you; a-losin' of the finest bark as ever weathereda storm. Ef it hadn't o' been fer you a-mutinyin' agin' me I'd a-broughther through in safety an' never lost a bloomin' soul. "

"Stow it!" admonished Theriere at last; "your foolish bluster can'thide the bald fact that you deserted your post in time of danger. We'reashore now, remember, and there is no more ship for you to command, sowere I you I'd be mighty careful how I talked to my betters. "

"What's that!" screamed the skipper. "My betters! You frog-eatin'greaser you, I'll teach you. Here, some of you, clap this swab intoirons. I'll learn him that I'm still captain of this here bunch. "

Theriere laughed in the man's face; but Ward and a couple of handswho had been shown favoritism by the skipper and first mate closedmenacingly toward the second officer. 

The Frenchman took in the situation at a glance. They were ashore now, where they didn't think that they needed him further and the process ofelimination had commenced. Well, it might as well come to a showdown nowas later. 

"Just a moment, " said Theriere, raising his hand. "You're not going totake me alive, and I have no idea that you want to anyhow, and if youstart anything in the killing line some of you are going to Davy Jones'locker along with me. The best thing for all concerned is to divide upthis party now once and for all. "

As he finished speaking he turned toward Billy Byrne. 

"Are you and the others with me, or against me?" he asked. 

"I'm ag'in' Simms, " replied the mucker non-committally. 

Bony Sawyer, Red Sanders, Blanco, Wison, and two others drew in behindBilly Byrne. 

"We all's wid Billy, " announced Blanco. 

Divine and Barbara Harding stood a little apart. Both were alarmed atthe sudden, hostile turn events had taken. Simms, Ward, and Therierewere the only members of the party armed. Each wore a revolver strappedabout his hips. All were still dripping from their recent plunge in theocean. 

Five men stood behind Skipper Simms and Ward, but there were tworevolvers upon that side of the argument. Suddenly Ward turned towardDivine. 

"Are you armed, Mr. Divine?" he asked. 

Divine nodded affirmatively. 

"Then you'd better come over with us--it looks like we might need you tohelp put down this mutiny, " said Ward. 

Divine hesitated. He did not know which side was more likely to bevictorious, and he wanted to be sure to be on the winning side. Suddenlyan inspiration came to him. 

"This is purely a matter to be settled by the ship's officers, " hesaid. "I am only a prisoner, call me a passenger if you like--I have nointerest whatever in the matter, and shall not take sides. "

"Yes you will, " said Mr. Ward, in a low, but menacing tone. "You're intoo deep to try to ditch us now. If you don't stand by us we'll treatyou as one of the mutineers when we're through with them, and you cancome pretty near a-guessin' what they'll get. "

Divine was about to reply, and the nature of his answer was suggestedby the fact that he had already taken a few steps in the direction ofSimms' faction, when he was stopped by the low voice of the girl behindhim. 

"Larry, " she said, "I know all--your entire connection with this plot. If you have a spark of honor or manhood left you will do what little youcan to retrieve the terrible wrong you have done me, and my father. Youcan never marry me. I give you my word of honor that I shall take my ownlife if that is the only way to thwart your plans in that direction, andso as the fortune can never be yours it seems to me that the next bestthing would be to try and save me from the terrible predicament inwhich your cupidity has placed me. You can make the start now, Larry, by walking over and placing yourself at Mr. Theriere's disposal. He haspromised to help and protect me. "

A deep flush mounted to the man's neck and face. He did not turn aboutto face the girl he had so grievously wronged--for the life of him hecould not have met her eyes. Slowly he turned, and with gaze bent uponthe ground walked quickly toward Theriere. 

Ward was quick to recognize the turn events had taken, and to see thatit gave Theriere the balance of power, with two guns and nine men in hisparty against their two guns and seven men. It also was evident to himthat to the other party the girl would naturally gravitate since Divine, an old acquaintance, had cast his lot with it; nor had the growingintimacy between Miss Harding and Theriere been lost upon him. 

Ward knew that Simms was an arrant coward, nor was he himself overlykeen for an upstanding, man-to-man encounter such as must quickly followany attempt upon his part to uphold the authority of Simms, or theirclaim upon the custody of the girl. 

Intrigue and trickery were more to Mr. Ward's liking, and so he wasquick to alter his plan of campaign the instant that it became evidentthat Divine had elected to join forces with the opposing faction. 

"I reckon, " he said, directing his remarks toward no one in particular, "that we've all been rather hasty in this matter, being het up as wewere with the strain of what we been through an' so it seems to me, takin' into consideration that Mr. Theriere really done his best to savethe ship, an' that as a matter of fact we was all mighty lucky to comeout of it alive, that we'd better let bygones be bygones, for the timebein' at least, an' all of us pitch in to save what we can from thewreckage, hunt water, rig up a camp, an' get things sort o' shipshapehere instid o' squabblin' amongst ourselves. "

"Suit yourself, " said Theriere, "it's all the same to us, " and his useof the objective pronoun seemed definitely to establish the existence ofhis faction as a separate and distinct party. 

Simms, from years of experience with his astute mate, was wont toacquiesce in anything that Ward proposed, though he had not the brainsalways to appreciate the purposes that prompted Ward's suggestions. Now, therefore, he nodded his approval of Squint Eye's proposal, feeling thatwhatever was in Ward's mind would be more likely to work out to SkipperSimms' interests than some unadvised act of Skipper Simms himself. 

"Supposin', " continued Ward, "that we let two o' your men an' two o'ourn under Mr. Divine, shin up them cliffs back o' the cove an' searchfer water an' a site fer camp--the rest o' us'll have our hands fullwith the salvage. "

"Good, " agreed Theriere. "Miller, you and Swenson will accompany Mr. Divine. "

Ward detailed two of his men, and the party of five began the difficultascent of the cliffs, while far above them a little brown man withbeady, black eyes set in narrow fleshy slits watched them from behind aclump of bushes. Strange, medieval armor and two wicked-looking swordsgave him a most warlike appearance. His temples were shaved, and a broadstrip on the top of his head to just beyond the crown. His remaininghair was drawn into an unbraided queue, tied tightly at the back, andthe queue then brought forward to the top of the forehead. His helmetlay in the grass at his feet. At the nearer approach of the party to thecliff top the watcher turned and melted into the forest at his back. He was Oda Yorimoto, descendant of a powerful daimio of the AshikagaDynasty of shoguns who had fled Japan with his faithful samurai nearlythree hundred and fifty years before upon the overthrow of the AshikagaDynasty. 

Upon this unfrequented and distant Japanese isle the exiles had retainedall of their medieval military savagery, to which had been added theaboriginal ferocity of the head-hunting natives they had found there andwith whom they had intermarried. The little colony, far from making anyadvances in arts or letters had, on the contrary, relapsed into primevalignorance as deep as that of the natives with whom they had casttheir lot--only in their arms and armor, their military trainingand discipline did they show any of the influence of their civilizedprogenitors. They were cruel, crafty, resourceful wild men trapped inthe habiliments of a dead past, and armed with the keen weapons of theirforbears. They had not even the crude religion of the Malaysians theyhad absorbed unless a highly exaggerated propensity for head-huntingmight be dignified by the name of religion. To the tender mercies ofsuch as these were the castaways of the Halfmoon likely to be consigned, for what might sixteen men with but four revolvers among them accomplishagainst near a thousand savage samurai?

Theriere, Ward, Simms, and the remaining sailors at the beach busiedthemselves with the task of retrieving such of the wreckage and thesalvage of the Halfmoon as the waves had deposited in the shallows ofthe beach. There were casks of fresh water, kegs of biscuit, clothing, tinned meats, and a similar heterogeneous mass of flotsam. This arduouslabor consumed the best part of the afternoon, and it was not until ithad been completed that Divine and his party returned to the beach. 

They reported that they had discovered a spring of fresh water somethree miles east of the cove and about half a mile inland, but it wasdecided that no attempt be made to transport the salvage of the party tothe new camp site until the following morning. 

Theriere and Divine erected a rude shelter for Barbara Harding closeunder the foot of the cliff, as far from the water as possible, whileabove them Oda Yorimoto watched their proceedings with beady, glitteringeyes. This time a half-dozen of his fierce samurai crouched at his side. Besides their two swords these latter bore the primitive spears of theirmothers' savage tribe. 

Oda Yorimoto watched the white men upon the beach. Also, he watched thewhite girl--even more, possibly, than he watched the men. He saw theshelter that was being built, and when it was complete he saw the girlenter it, and he knew that it was for her alone. Oda Yorimoto sucked inhis lips and his eyes narrowed even more than nature had intended thatthey should. 

A fire burned before the rude domicile that Barbara Harding was tooccupy, and another, larger fire roared a hundred yards to the westwhere the men were congregated about Blanco, who was attempting toevolve a meal from the miscellany of his larder that had been cast upby the sea. There seemed now but little to indicate that the party wasdivided into two bitter factions, but when the meal was over Therierecalled his men to a point midway between Barbara's shelter and the maincamp fire. Here he directed them to dispose themselves for the night asbest they could, building a fire of their own if they chose, for withthe coming of darkness the chill of the tropical night would render afire more than acceptable. 

All were thoroughly tired and exhausted, so that darkness had scarcefallen ere the entire camp seemed wrapped in slumber. And still OdaYorimoto sat with his samurai upon the cliff's summit, beady eyes fixedupon his intended prey. 

For an hour he sat thus in silence, until, assured that all were asleepbefore him, he arose and with a few whispered instructions commencedthe descent of the cliff toward the cove below. Scarce had he started, however, with his men stringing in single file behind him, than he cameto a sudden halt, for below him in the camp that lay between the girl'sshelter and the westerly camp a figure had arisen stealthily from amonghis fellows. 

It was Theriere. Cautiously he moved to a sleeper nearby whom he shookgently until he had awakened him. 

"Hush, Byrne, " cautioned the Frenchman. "It is I, Theriere. Help meawaken the others--see that there is no noise. "

"Wot's doin'?" queried the mucker. 

"We are going to break camp, and occupy the new location before thatbunch of pirates can beat us to it, " whispered Theriere in reply; "and, "he added, "we're going to take the salvage and the girl with us. "

The mucker grinned. 

"Gee!" he said. "Won't dey be a sore bunch in de mornin'?"

The work of awakening the balance of the party required but a fewminutes and when the plan was explained to them, all seemed delightedwith the prospect of discomfiting Skipper Simms and Squint Eye. It wasdecided that only the eatables be carried away on the first trip, andthat if a second trip was possible before dawn the clothing, canvas, andcordage that had been taken from the water might then be purloined. 

Miller and Swenson were detailed to bring up the rear with Miss Harding, assisting her up the steep side of the cliff. Divine was to act as guideto the new camp, lending a hand wherever necessary in the scaling of theheights with the loot. 

Cautiously the party, with the exception of Divine, Miller, and Swenson, crept toward the little pile of supplies that were heaped fifty or sixtyfeet from the sleeping members of Simms' faction. The three left behindwalked in silence to Barbara Harding's shelter. Here Divine scratched atthe piece of sail cloth which served as a door until he had succeededin awakening the sleeper within. And from above Oda Yorimoto watched theactivity in the little cove with intent and unwavering eyes. 

The girl, roused from a fitful slumber, came to the doorway of herprimitive abode, alarmed by this nocturnal summons. 

"It is I, Larry, " whispered the man. "Are you dressed?"

"Yes, " replied the girl, stepping out into the moonlight. "What do youwant? What has happened?"

"We are going to take you away from Simms--Theriere and I, " replied theman, "and establish a safe camp of our own where they cannot molest you. Theriere and the others have gone for the supplies now and as soon asthey return we further preparations to make, Barbara, please make haste, as we must get away from here as quickly as possible. Should any ofSimms' people awaken there is sure to be a fight. "

The girl turned back into the shelter to gather together a handful ofwraps that had been saved from the wreck. 

Down by the salvage Theriere, Byrne, Bony Sawyer, Red Sanders, Blanco, and Wison were selecting the goods that they wished to carry with them. It was found that two trips would be necessary to carry off the bulk ofthe rations, so Theriere sent the mucker to summon Miller and Swenson. 

"We'll carry all that eight of us can to the top of the cliffs, " he said"hide it there and then come back for the balance. We may be able to getit later if we are unable to make two trips to the camp tonight. "

While they were waiting for Byrne to return with the two recruits oneof the sleepers in Simms' camp stirred. Instantly the five maraudersdropped stealthily to the ground behind the boxes and casks. OnlyTheriere kept his eyes above the level of the top of their shelter thathe might watch the movements of the enemy. 

The figure sat up and looked about. It was Ward. Slowly be arose andapproached the pile of salvage. Theriere drew his revolver, holdingit in readiness for an emergency. Should the first mate look in thedirection of Barbara Harding's shelter he must certainly see the fourfigures waiting there in the moonlight. Theriere turned his own head inthe direction of the shelter that he might see how plainly the men therewere visible. To his delight he saw that no one was in sight. Eitherthey had seen Ward, or for the sake of greater safety from detection hadmoved to the opposite side of the shelter. 

Ward was quite close to the boxes upon the other side of which crouchedthe night raiders. Theriere's finger found the trigger of his revolver. He was convinced that the mate had been disturbed by the movement incamp and was investigating. The Frenchman knew that the search wouldnot end upon the opposite side of the salvage--in a moment Ward wouldbe upon them. He was sorry--not for Ward, but because he had planned tocarry the work out quietly and he hated to have to muss things up with akilling, especially on Barbara's account. 

Ward stopped at one of the water casks. He tipped it up, filling a tincup with water, took a long drink, set the cup back on top of the cask, and, turning, retraced his steps to his blanket. Theriere could havehugged himself. The man had suspected nothing. He merely had beenthirsty and come over for a drink--in another moment he would be fastasleep once more. Sure enough, before Byrne returned with Miller andSwenson, Theriere could bear the snores of the first mate. 

On the first trip to the cliff top eight men carried heavy burdens, Divine alone remaining to guard Barbara Harding. The second trip wasmade with equal dispatch and safety. No sound or movement came from thecamp of the enemy, other than that of sleeping men. On the second tripDivine and Theriere each carried a burden up the cliffs, Miller andSwenson following with Barbara Harding, and as they came Oda Yorimotoand his samurai slunk back into the shadows that their prey might passunobserving. 

Theriere had the bulk of the loot hidden in a rocky crevice just beyondthe cliff's summit. Brush torn from the mass of luxuriant tropicalvegetation that covered the ground was strewn over the cache. All hadbeen accomplished in safety and without detection. The camp beneath themstill lay wrapped in silence. 

The march toward the new camp, under the guidance of Divine, wasimmediately undertaken. On the return trip after the search for waterDivine had discovered a well-marked trail along the edge of the cliffsto a point opposite the spring, and another leading from the main traildirectly to the water. In his ignorance he had thought these the runwaysof animals, whereas they were the age-old highways of the head-hunters. 

Now they presented a comparatively quick and easy approach to thedestination of the mutineers, but so narrow a one as soon to convinceTheriere that it was not feasible for him to move back and forthalong the flank of his column. He had tried it once, but it so greatlyinconvenienced and retarded the heavily laden men that he abandoned theeffort, remaining near the center of the cavalcade until the new campwas reached. 

Here he found a fair-sized space about a clear and plentiful spring ofcold water. Only a few low bushes dotted the grassy clearing which wasalmost completely surrounded by dense and impenetrable jungle. The menhad deposited their burdens, and still Theriere stood waiting for thebalance of his party--Miller and Swenson with Barbara Harding. 

But they did not come, and when, in alarm, the entire party started backin search of them they retraced their steps to the very brink of thedeclivity leading to the cove before they could believe the testimonyof their own perceptions--Barbara Harding and the two sailors haddisappeared. 

CHAPTER X. BARBARA CAPTURED BY HEAD-HUNTERS

WHEN Barbara Harding, with Miller before and Swenson behind her, hadtaken up the march behind the loot-laden party seven dusky, noiselessshadows had emerged from the forest to follow close behind. 

For half a mile the party moved along the narrow trail unmolested. Theriere had come back to exchange a half-dozen words with the girl andhad again moved forward toward the head of the column. Miller was notmore than twenty-five feet behind the first man ahead of him, and MissHarding and Swenson followed at intervals of but three or four yards. 

Suddenly, without warning, Swenson and Miller fell, pierced with savagespears, and at the same instant sinewy fingers gripped Barbara Harding, and a silencing hand was clapped over her mouth. There had been no soundabove the muffled tread of the seamen. It had all been accomplished soquickly and so easily that the girl did not comprehend what had befallenher for several minutes. 

In the darkness of the forest she could not clearly distinguish theforms or features of her abductors, though she reasoned, as was onlynatural, that Skipper Simms' party had become aware of the plot againstthem and had taken this means of thwarting a part of it; but when hercaptors turned directly into the mazes of the jungle, away from thecoast, she began first to wonder and then to doubt, so that presentlywhen a small clearing let the moonlight full upon them she was notsurprised to discover that none of the members of the Halfmoon's companywas among her guard. 

Barbara Harding had not circled the globe half a dozen times fornothing. There were few races or nations with whose history, past andpresent, she was not fairly familiar, and so the sight that greetedher eyes was well suited to fill her with astonishment, for she foundherself in the hands of what appeared to be a party of Japanese warriorsof the fifteenth or sixteenth century. She recognized the medieval armsand armor, the ancient helmets, the hairdressing of the two-sworded menof old Japan. At the belts of two of her captors dangled grisly trophiesof the hunt. In the moonlight she saw that they were the heads of Millerand Swenson. 

The girl was horrified. She had thought her lot before as bad as itcould be, but to be in the clutches of these strange, fierce warriors ofa long-dead age was unthinkably worse. That she could ever have wishedto be back upon the Halfmoon would have seemed, a few days since, incredible; yet that was precisely what she longed for now. 

On through the night marched the little, brown men--grim andsilent--until at last they came to a small village in a valley away fromthe coast--a valley that lay nestled high among lofty mountains. Herewere cavelike dwellings burrowed half under ground, the upper walls andthatched roofs rising scarce four feet above the level. Granaries onstilts were dotted here and there among the dwellings. 

Into one of the filthy dens Barbara Harding was dragged. She found asingle room in which several native and half-caste women were sleeping, about them stretched and curled and perched a motley throng of dirtyyellow children, dogs, pigs, and chickens. It was the palace of DaimioOda Yorimoto, Lord of Yoka, as his ancestors had christened their newisland home. 

Once within the warren the two samurai who had guarded Barbara uponthe march turned and withdrew--she was alone with Oda Yorimoto and hisfamily. From the center of the room depended a swinging shelf upon whicha great pile of grinning skulls rested. At the back of the room was adoor which Barbara had not at first noticed--evidently there was anotherapartment to the dwelling. 

The girl was given little opportunity to examine her new prison, forscarce had the guards withdrawn than Oda Yorimoto approached and graspedher by the arm. 

"Come!" he said, in Japanese that was sufficiently similar to modernNippon to be easily understood by Barbara Harding. With the word he drewher toward a sleeping mat on a raised platform at one side of the room. 

One of the women awoke at the sound of the man's voice. She looked up atBarbara in sullen hatred--otherwise she gave no indication that she sawanything unusual transpiring. It was as though an exquisite Americanbelle were a daily visitor at the Oda Yorimoto home. 

"What do you want of me?" cried the frightened girl, in Japanese. 

Oda Yorimoto looked at her in astonishment. Where had this white girllearned to speak his tongue?

"I am the daimio, Oda Yorimoto, " he said. "These are my wives. Now youare one of them. Come!"

"Not yet--not here!" cried the girl clutching at a straw. "Wait. Giveme time to think. If you do not harm me my father will reward youfabulously. Ten thousand koku he would gladly give to have me returnedto him safely. "

Oda Yorimoto but shook his head. 

"Twenty thousand koku!" cried the girl. 

Still the daimio shook his head negatively. 

"A hundred thousand--name your own price, if you will but not harm me. "

"Silence!" growled the man. "What are even a million koku to me who onlyknow the word from the legends of my ancestors. We have no need for kokuhere, and had we, my hills are full of the yellow metal which measuresits value. No! you are my woman. Come!"

"Not here! Not here!" pleaded the girl. "There is another room--awayfrom all these women, " and she turned her eyes toward the door at theopposite side of the chamber. 

Oda Yorimoto shrugged his shoulders. That would be easier than a fight, he argued, and so he led the girl toward the doorway that she hadindicated. Within the room all was dark, but the daimio moved as oneaccustomed to the place, and as he moved through the blackness the girlat his side felt with stealthy fingers at the man's belt. 

At last Oda Yorimoto reached the far side of the long chamber. 

"Here!" he said, and took her by the shoulders. 

"Here!" answered the girl in a low, tense voice, and at the instant thatshe spoke Oda Yorimoto, Lord of Yoka, felt a quick tug at his belt, andbefore he guessed what was to happen his own short sword had pierced hisbreast. 

A single shriek broke from the lips of the daimio; but it was so highand shrill and like the shriek of a woman in mortal terror that thewoman in the next room who heard it but smiled a crooked, wicked smileof hate and turned once more upon her pallet to sleep. 

Again and again Barbara Harding plunged the sword of the brown man intothe still heart, until she knew beyond peradventure of a doubt that herenemy was forevermore powerless to injure her. Then she sank, exhaustedand trembling, upon the dirt floor beside the corpse. 

When Theriere came to the realization that Barbara Harding was gone hejumped to the natural conclusion that Ward and Simms had discoveredthe ruse that he had worked upon them just in time to permit them tointercept Miller and Swenson with the girl, and carry her back to themain camp. 

The others were prone to agree with him, though the mucker grumbled that"it listened fishy. " However, all hands returned cautiously down theface of the cliff, expecting momentarily to be attacked by the guardswhich they felt sure Ward would post in expectation of a return of themutineers, the moment they discovered that the girl had been takenfrom them; but to the surprise of all they reached the cove withoutmolestation, and when they had crept cautiously to the vicinity of thesleepers they discovered that all were there, in peaceful slumber, justas they had left them a few hours before. 

Silently the party retraced its steps up the cliff. Theriere and BillyByrne brought up the rear. 

"What do you make of it anyway, Byrne?" asked the Frenchman. 

"If you wanta get it straight, cul, " replied the mucker, "I tink youseknow a whole lot more about it dan you'd like to have de rest of ustink. "

"What do you mean, Byrne?" cried Theriere. "Out with it now!"

"Sure I'll out wid it. You didn't tink I was bashful didja? Wot fer didyou detail dem two pikers, Miller and Swenson, to guard de skirt fer ifit wasn't fer some special frame-up of yer own? Dey never been in ourgang, and dats just wot you wanted 'em fer. It was easy to tip dem offto hike out wid de squab, and de first chanct you get you'll hike afterdem, while we hold de bag. Tought you'd double-cross us easy, didn'tyeh? Yeh cheap-skate!"

"Byrne, " said Theriere, and it was easy to see that only through thestrength of his will-power did he keep his temper, "you may have causeto suspect the motives of everyone connected with this outfit. I can'tsay that I blame you; but I want you to remember what I say to you now. There was a time when I fully intended to 'double-cross' you, as yousay--that was before you saved my life. Since then I have been on thesquare with you not only in deed but in thought as well. I give you theword of a man whose word once meant something--I am playing square withyou now except in one thing, and I shall tell you what that is at once. I do not know where Miss Harding is, or what has happened to her, andMiller, and Swenson. That is God's truth. Now for the one thing thatI just mentioned. Recently I changed my intentions relative to MissHarding. I was after the money the same as the rest--that I am freeto admit; but now I don't give a rap for it, and I had intendedtaking advantage of the first opportunity to return Miss Harding tocivilization unharmed and without the payment of a penny to anyone. Thereason for my change of heart is my own affair. In all probabilityyou wouldn't believe the sincerity or honesty of my motives shouldI disclose them. I am only telling you these things because you haveaccused me of double dealing, and I do not want the man who saved mylife at the risk of his own to have the slightest grounds to doubt myhonesty with him. I've been a fairly bad egg, Byrne, for a great manyyears; but, by George! I'm not entirely rotten yet. "

Byrne was silent for a few moments. He, too, had recently come to theconclusion that possibly he was not entirely rotten either, and had ina vague and half-formed sort of way wished for the opportunity todemonstrate the fact, so he was willing to concede to another that whichhe craved for himself. 

"Yeh listen all right, cul, " he said at last; "an' I'm willin' to takeyeh at yer own say-so until I learn different. "

"Thanks, " said Theriere tersely. "Now we can work together in the searchfor Miss Harding; but where, in the name of all that's holy, are we tostart?"

"Why, where we seen her last, of course, " replied the mucker. "Righthere on top of dese bluffs. "

"Then we can't do anything until daylight, " said the Frenchman. 

"Not a ting, and at daylight we'll most likely have a scrap on our handsfrom below, " and the mucker jerked his thumb in the direction of thecove. 

"I think, " said Theriere, "that we had better spend an hour armingourselves with sticks and stones. We've a mighty good position up here. One that we can defend splendidly from an assault from below, and if weare prepared for them we can stave 'em off for a while if we need thetime to search about up here for clews to Miss Harding's whereabouts. "

And so the party set to work to cut stout bludgeons from the trees aboutthem, and pile loose fragments of rock in handy places near the clifftop. Theriere even went so far as to throw up a low breastwork acrossthe top of the trail up which the enemy must climb to reach the summitof the cliff. When they had completed their preparations three men couldhave held the place against ten times their own number. 

Then they lay down to sleep, leaving Blanco and Divine on guard, for ithad been decided that these two, with Bony Sawyer, should be left behindon the morrow to hold the cliff top while the others were searching forclews to the whereabouts of Barbara Harding. They were to relieve eachother at guard duty during the balance of the night. 

Scarce had the first suggestion of dawn lightened the eastern sky thanDivine, who was again on guard, awakened Theriere. In a moment theothers were aroused, and a hasty raid on the cached provisions made. Thelack of water was keenly felt by all, but it was too far to the springto chance taking the time necessary to fetch the much-craved fluid andthose who were to forge into the jungle in search of Barbara Hardinghoped to find water farther inland, while it was decided to dispatchBony Sawyer to the spring for water for those who were to remain onguard at the cliff top. 

A hurried breakfast was made on water-soaked ship's biscuit. Theriereand his searching party stuffed their pockets full of them, and a momentlater the search was on. First the men traversed the trail toward thespring, looking for indications of the spot where Barbara Harding hadceased to follow them. The girl had worn heelless buckskin shoes at thetime she was taken from the Lotus, and these left little or no spoorin the well-tramped earth of the narrow path; but a careful and minuteexamination on the part of Theriere finally resulted in the detection ofa single small footprint a hundred yards from the point they had struckthe trail after ascending the cliffs. This far at least she had beenwith them. 

The men now spread out upon either side of the track--Theriere and RedSanders upon one side, Byrne and Wison upon the other. OccasionallyTheriere would return to the trail to search for further indications ofthe spoor they sought. 

The party had proceeded in this fashion for nearly half a mile whensuddenly they were attracted by a low exclamation from the mucker. 

"Here!" he called. "Here's Miller an' the Swede, an' they sure havemussed 'em up turrible. "

The others hastened in the direction of his voice, to come to ahorrified halt at the sides of the headless trunks of the two sailors. 

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, reverting to his mother tongue ashe never did except under the stress of great excitement. 

"Who done it?" queried Red Sanders, looking suspiciously at the mucker. 

"Head-hunters, " said Theriere. "God! What an awful fate for that poorgirl!"

Billy Byrne went white. 

"Yeh don't mean dat dey've lopped off her block?" he whispered in anawed voice. Something strange rose in the mucker's breast at the thoughthe had just voiced. He did not attempt to analyze the sensation; but itwas far from joy at the suggestion that the woman he so hated had met ahorrible and disgusting death at the hands of savages. 

"I'm afraid not, Byrne, " said Theriere, in a voice that none there wouldhave recognized as that of the harsh and masterful second officer of theHalfmoon. 

"Yer afraid not!" echoed Billy Byrne, in amazement. 

"For her sake I hope that they did, " said Theriere; "for such as she itwould have been a far less horrible fate than the one I fear they havereserved her for. "

"You mean--" queried Byrne, and then he stopped, for the realization ofjust what Theriere did mean swept over him quite suddenly. 

There was no particular reason why Billy Byrne should have felt towardwomen the finer sentiments which are so cherished a possession of thosemen who have been gently born and raised, even after they have learnedthat all women are not as was the feminine ideal of their boyhood. 

Billy's mother, always foul-mouthed and quarrelsome, had been averitable demon when drunk, and drunk she had been whenever shecould, by hook or crook, raise the price of whiskey. Never, to Billy'srecollection, had she spoken a word of endearment to him; and soterribly had she abused him that even while he was yet a little boy, scarce out of babyhood, he had learned to view her with a hatred asdeep-rooted as is the affection of most little children for theirmothers. 

When he had come to man's estate he had defended himself from thewoman's brutal assaults as he would have defended himself from anotherman--when she had struck, Billy had struck back; the only thing tohis credit being that he never had struck her except in self-defense. Chastity in woman was to him a thing to joke of--he did not believethat it existed; for he judged other women by the one he knew best--hismother. And as he hated her, so he hated them all. He had doubly hatedBarbara Harding since she not only was a woman, but a woman of the classhe loathed. 

And so it was strange and inexplicable that the suggestion of the girl'sprobable fate should have affected Billy Byrne as it did. He did notstop to reason about it at all--he simply knew that he felt a mad andunreasoning rage against the creatures that had borne the girl away. Outwardly Billy showed no indication of the turmoil that raged withinhis breast. 

"We gotta find her, bo, " he said to Theriere. "We gotta find the skirt. "

Ordinarily Billy would have blustered about the terrible things he woulddo to the objects of his wrath when once he had them in his power; butnow he was strangely quiet--only the firm set of his strong chin, andthe steely glitter of his gray eyes gave token of the iron resolutionwithin. 

Theriere, who had been walking slowly to and fro about the dead men, nowcalled the others to him. 

"Here's their trail, " he said. "If it's as plain as that all the way wewon't be long in overhauling them. Come along. "

Before he had the words half out of his mouth the mucker was forgingahead through the jungle along the well-marked spoor of the samurai. 

"Wot kind of men do you suppose they are?" asked Red Sanders. 

"Malaysian head-hunters, unquestionably, " replied Theriere. 

Red Sanders shuddered inwardly. The appellation had a most gruesomesound. 

"Come on!" cried Theriere, and started off after the mucker, who alreadywas out of sight in the thick forest. 

Red Sanders and Wison took a few steps after the Frenchman. Theriereturned once to see that they were following him, and then a turn in thetrail hid them from his view. Red Sanders stopped. 

"Damme if I'm goin' to get my coconut hacked off on any such wild-goosechase as this, " he said to Wison. 

"The girl's more'n likely dead long ago, " said the other. 

"Sure she is, " returned Red Sanders, "an' if we go buttin' into thatthere thicket we'll be dead too. Ugh! Poor Miller. Poor Swenson. It'sorful. Did you see wot they done to 'em beside cuttin' off their heads?"

"Yes, " whispered Wison, looking suddenly behind him. 

Red Sanders gave a little start, peering in the direction that hiscompanion had looked. 

"Wot was it?" he whimpered. "Wot did you do that fer?"

"I thought I seen something move there, " replied Wison. "Fer Gawd's sakelet's get outen this, " and without waiting for a word of assent from hiscompanion the sailor turned and ran at breakneck speed along thelittle path toward the spot where Divine, Blanco, and Bony Sawyer werestationed. When they arrived Bony was just on the point of settingout for the spring to fetch water, but at sight of the frightened, breathless men he returned to hear their story. 

"What's up?" shouted Divine. "You men look as though you'd seen a ghost. Where are the others?"

"They're all murdered, and their heads cut off, " cried Red Sanders. "Wefound the bunch that got Miller, Swenson, and the girl. They'd killed'em all and was eatin' of 'em when we jumps 'em. Before we knew wot hadhappened about a thousand more of the devils came runnin' up. Theygot us separated, and when we seen Theriere and Byrne kilt we jestnatch'rally beat it. Gawd, but it was orful. "

"Do you think they will follow you?" asked Divine. 

At the suggestion every head turned toward the trail down which thetwo panic-stricken men had just come. At the same moment a hoarse shoutarose from the cove below and the five looked down to see a scene ofwild activity upon the beach. The defection of Theriere's party hadbeen discovered, as well as the absence of the girl and the theft of theprovisions. 

Skipper Simms was dancing about like a madman. His bellowed oaths rolledup the cliffs like thunder. Presently Ward caught a glimpse of the menat the top of the cliff above him. 

"There they are!" he cried. 

Skipper Simms looked up. 

"The swabs!" he shrieked. "A-stealin' of our grub, an' abductin' of thatthere pore girl. The swabs! Lemme to 'em, I say; jest lemme to 'em. "

"We'd all better go to 'em, " said Ward. "We've got a fight on here sure. Gather up some rocks, men, an' come along. Skipper, you're too fat to doany fightin' on that there hillside, so you better stay here an' letone o' the men take your gun, " for Ward knew so well the mettle of hissuperior that he much preferred his absence to his presence in the faceof real fighting, and with the gun in the hands of a braver man it wouldbe vastly more effective. 

Ward himself was no lover of a fight, but he saw now that starvationmight stare them in the face with their food gone, and everything belost with the loss of the girl. For food and money a much more cowardlyman than Bender Ward would fight to the death. 

Up the face of the cliff they hurried, expecting momentarily to beeither challenged or fired upon by those above them. Divine and hisparty looked down with mixed emotions upon those who were ascending inso threatening a manner. They found themselves truly between the deviland the deep sea. 

Ward and his men were halfway up the cliff, yet Divine had made no moveto repel them. He glanced timorously toward the dark forest behind fromwhich he momentarily expected to see the savage, snarling faces of thehead-hunters appear. 

"Surrender! You swabs, " called Ward from below, "or we'll string thelast mother's son of you to the yardarm. "

For reply Blanco hurled a heavy fragment of rock at the assaulters. Itgrazed perilously close to Ward, against whom Blanco cherished a keenhatred. Instantly Ward's revolver barked, the bullet whistling closeby Divine's head. L. Cortwrite Divine, cotillion leader, ducked behindTheriere's breastwork, where he lay sprawled upon his belly, tremblingin terror. 

Bony Sawyer and Red Sanders followed the example of their commander. Blanco and Wison alone made any attempt to repel the assault. Thebig Negro ran to Divine's side and snatched the terror-stricken man'srevolver from his belt. Then turning he fired at Ward. The bullet, missing its intended victim, pierced the heart of a sailor directlybehind him, and as the man crumpled to the ground, rolling down thesteep declivity, his fellows sought cover. 

Wison followed up the advantage with a shower of well-aimed missiles, and then hostilities ceased temporarily. 

"Have they gone?" queried Divine, with trembling lips, noticing thequiet that followed the shot. 

"Gone nothin', yo big cowahd, " replied Blanco. "Do yo done suppose dattwo men is a-gwine to stan' off five? Ef yo white-livered skunks 'udgit up an' fight we might have a chanct. I'se a good min' to cut out yocowahdly heart fer yo, das wot I has--a-lyin' der on yo belly settin'dat kin' o' example to yo men!"

Divine's terror had placed him beyond the reach of contumely orreproach. 

"What's the use of fighting them?" he whimpered. "We should never haveleft them. It's all the fault of that fool Theriere. What can we doagainst the savages of this awful island if we divide our forces? Theywill pick us off a few at a time just as they picked off Miller andSwenson, Theriere and Byrne. We ought to tell Ward about it, and callthis foolish battle off. "

"Now you're talkin', " cried Bony Sawyer. "I'm not a-goin' to squat uphere any longer with my friends a-shootin' at me from below an' a lotof wild heathen creeping down on me from above to cut off my bloomin'head. "

"Same here!" chimed in Red Sanders. 

Blanco looked toward Wison. For his own part the Negro would not havebeen averse to returning to the fold could the thing be accomplishedwithout danger of reprisal on the part of Skipper Simms and Ward; buthe knew the men so well that he feared to trust them even shouldthey seemingly acquiesce to any such proposal. On the other hand, hereasoned, it would be as much to their advantage to have the desertersreturn to them as it would to the deserters themselves, for when theyhad heard the story told by Red Sanders and Wison of the murder of theothers of the party they too would realize the necessity for maintainingthe strength of the little company to its fullest. 

"I don't see that we're goin' to gain nothin' by fightin' 'em, " saidWison. "There ain't nothin' in it any more nohow for nobody since thegirl's gorn. Let's chuck it, an' see wot terms we can make with SquintEye. "

"Well, " grumbled the Negro, "I can't fight 'em alone; What yo doin'dere, Bony?"

During the conversation Bony Sawyer had been busy with a stick and apiece of rag, and now as he turned toward his companions once more theysaw that he had rigged a white flag of surrender. None interfered as heraised it above the edge of the breastwork. 

Immediately there was a hail from below. It was Ward's voice. 

"Surrenderin', eh? Comin' to your senses, are you?" he shouted. 

Divine, feeling that immediate danger from bullets was past, raised hishead above the edge of the earthwork. 

"We have something to communicate, Mr. Ward, " he called. 

"Spit it out, then; I'm a-listenin', " called back the mate. 

"Miss Harding, Mr. Theriere, Byrne, Miller, and Swenson have beencaptured and killed by native head-hunters, " said Divine. 

Ward's eyes went wide, and he blew out his cheeks in surprise. Then hisface went black with an angry scowl. 

"You see what you done now, you blitherin' fools, you!" he cried, "withyour funny business? You gone an' killed the goose what laid the goldeneggs. Thought you'd get it all, didn't you? and now nobody won't getnothin', unless it is the halter. Nice lot o' numbskulls you be, an'whimperin' 'round now expectin' of us to take you back--well, I reckonnot, not on your measly lives, " and with that he raised his revolver tofire again at Divine. 

The society man toppled over backward into the pit behind the breastworkbefore Ward had a chance to pull the trigger. 

"Hol' on there mate!" cried Bony Sawyer; "there ain't no call now fergettin' excited. Wait until you hear all we gotta say. You can'tblame us pore sailormen. It was this here fool dude and that scoundrelTheriere that put us up to it. They told us that you an' Skipper Simmswas a-fixin' to double-cross us all an' leave us here to starve onthis Gawd-forsaken islan'. Theriere said that he was with you when youplanned it. That you wanted to git rid o' as many of us as you couldso that you'd have more of the ransom to divide. So all we done was inself-defense, as it were. 

"Why not let bygones be bygones, an' all of us join forces ag'in' thesemurderin' heathen? There won't be any too many of us at best--Redan' Wison seen more'n two thousan' of the man-eatin' devils. They'rea-creepin' up on us from behin' right this minute, an' you can lay tothat; an' the chances are that they got some special kind o' route intothat there cove, an' maybe they're a-watchin' of you right now!"

Ward turned an apprehensive glance to either side. There was logic inBony's proposal. They couldn't spare a man now. Later he could punishthe offenders at his leisure--when he didn't need them any further. 

"Will you swear on the Book to do your duty by Skipper Simms an' me ifwe take you back?" asked Ward. 

"You bet, " answered Bony Sawyer. 

The others nodded their heads, and Divine sprang up and started downtoward Ward. 

"Hol' on you!" commanded the mate. "This here arrangement don' includeyou--it's jes' between Skipper Simms an' his sailors. You're a rankoutsider, an' you butts in an' starts a mutiny. Ef you come back yougotta stand trial fer that--see?"

"You better duck, mister, " advised Red Sanders; "they'll hangyou sure. "

Divine went white. To face trial before two such men as Simms and Wardmeant death, of that he was positive. To flee into the forest meantdeath, almost equally certain, and much more horrible. The man went tohis knees, lifting supplicating hands to the mate. 

"For God's sake, Mr. Ward, " he cried, "be merciful. I was led into thisby Theriere. He lied to me just as he did to the men. You can't killme--it would be murder--they'd hang you for it. "

"We'll hang for this muss you got us into anyway, if we're ever caught, "growled the mate. "Ef you hadn't a-carried the girl off to be murderedwe might have had enough ransom money to have got clear some way, butnow you gone and cooked the whole goose fer the lot of us. "

"You can collect ransom on me, " cried Divine, clutching at a straw. "I'll pay a hundred thousand myself the day you set me down in acivilized port, safe and free. "

Ward laughed in his face. 

"You ain't got a cent, you four-flusher, " he cried. "Clinker put us nextto that long before we sailed from Frisco. "

"Clinker lies, " cried Divine. "He doesn't know anything about it--I'mrich. "

"Wot's de use ob chewin' de rag 'bout all dis, " cried Blanco, seeingwhere he might square himself with Ward and Simms easily. "Does yo' takeback all us sailormen, Mr. Ward, an' promise not t' punish none o' us, ef we swear to stick by yo' all in de future?"

"Yes, " replied the mate. 

Blanco took a step toward Divine. 

"Den yo come along too as a prisoner, white man, " and the burly blackgrasped Divine by the scruff of the neck and forced him before him downthe steep trail toward the cove, and so the mutineers returned to thecommand of Skipper Simms, and L. Cortwrite Divine went with them as aprisoner, charged with a crime the punishment for which has been deathsince men sailed the seas. 

CHAPTER XI. THE VILLAGE OF YOKA

FOR several minutes Barbara Harding lay where she had collapsed afterthe keen short sword of the daimio had freed her from the menace of hislust. 

She was in a half-stupor that took cognizance only of a freezing terrorand exhaustion. Presently, however, she became aware of her contact withthe corpse beside her, and with a stifled cry she shrank away from it. 

Slowly the girl regained her self-control and with it came therealization of the extremity of her danger. She rose to a sittingposture and turned her wide eyes toward the doorway to the adjoiningroom--the women and children seemed yet wrapped in slumber. It wasevident that the man's scream had not disturbed them. 

Barbara gained her feet and moved softly to the doorway. She wonderedif she could cross the intervening space to the outer exit withoutdetection. Once in the open she could flee to the jungle, and thenthere was a chance at least that she might find her way to the coast andTheriere. 

She gripped the short sword which she still held, and took a step intothe larger room. One of the women turned and half roused from sleep. Thegirl shrank back into the darkness of the chamber she had just quitted. The woman sat up and looked around. Then she rose and threw some sticksupon the fire that burned at one side of the dwelling. She crossed to ashelf and took down a cooking utensil. Barbara saw that she was about tocommence the preparation of breakfast. 

All hope of escape was thus ended, and the girl cautiously closed thedoor between the two rooms. Then she felt about the smaller apartmentfor some heavy object with which to barricade herself; but her searchwas fruitless. Finally she bethought herself of the corpse. That wouldhold the door against the accident of a child or dog pushing it open--itwould be better than nothing, but could she bring herself to touch theloathsome thing?

The instinct of self-preservation will work wonders even with a frailand delicate woman. Barbara Harding steeled herself to the task, andafter several moments of effort she succeeded in rolling the dead managainst the door. The scraping sound of the body as she dragged it intoposition had sent cold shivers running up her spine. 

She had removed the man's long sword and armor before attempting to movehim, and now she crouched beside the corpse with both the swords besideher--she would sell her life dearly. Theriere's words came back to hernow as they had when she was struggling in the water after the wreck ofthe Halfmoon: "but, by George, I intend to go down fighting. " Well, shecould do no less. 

She could hear the movement of several persons in the next room now. Thevoices of women and children came to her distinctly. Many of the wordswere Japanese, but others were of a tongue with which she was notfamiliar. 

Presently her own chamber began to lighten. She looked over her shoulderand saw the first faint rays of dawn showing through a small aperturenear the roof and at the opposite end of the room. She rose and movedquickly toward it. By standing on tiptoe and pulling herself up a triflewith her hands upon the sill she was able to raise her eyes above thebottom of the window frame. 

Beyond she saw the forest, not a hundred yards away; but when sheattempted to crawl through the opening she discovered to her chagrinthat it was too small to permit the passage of her body. And then therecame a knocking on the door she had just quitted, and a woman's voicecalling her lord and master to his morning meal. 

Barbara ran quickly across the chamber to the door, the long swordraised above her head in both hands. Again the woman knocked, this timemuch louder, and raised her voice as she called again upon Oda Yorimototo come out. 

The girl within was panic-stricken. What should she do? With but alittle respite she might enlarge the window sufficiently to permit herto escape into the forest, but the woman at the door evidently would notbe denied. Suddenly an inspiration came to her. It was a forlorn hope, but well worth putting to the test. 

"Hush!" she hissed through the closed door. "Oda Yorimoto sleeps. It ishis wish that he be not disturbed. "

For a moment there was silence beyond the door, and then the womangrunted, and Barbara heard her turn back, muttering to herself. The girlbreathed a deep sigh of relief--she had received a brief reprieve fromdeath. 

Again she turned to the window, where, with the short sword, shecommenced her labor of enlarging it to permit the passage of her body. The work was necessarily slow because of the fact that it must proceedwith utter noiselessness. 

For an hour she worked, and then again came an interruption at the door. This time it was a man. 

"Oda Yorimoto still sleeps, " whispered the girl. "Go away and do notdisturb him. He will be very angry if you awaken him. "

But the man would not be put off so easily as had the woman. He stillinsisted. 

"The daimio has ordered that there shall be a great hunt today for theheads of the sei-yo-jin who have landed upon Yoka, " persisted the man. "He will be angry indeed if we do not call him in time to accomplishthe task today. Let me speak with him, woman. I do not believe that OdaYorimoto still sleeps. Why should I believe one of the sei-yo-jin? Itmay be that you have bewitched the daimio, " and with that he pushedagainst the door. 

The corpse gave a little, and the man glued his eyes to the aperture. Barbara held the sword behind her, and with her shoulder against thedoor attempted to reclose it. 

"Go away!" she cried. "I shall be killed if you awaken Oda Yorimoto, and, if you enter, you, too, shall be killed. "

The man stepped back from the door, and Barbara could hear him in lowconverse with some of the women of the household. A moment later hereturned, and without a word of warning threw his whole weight againstthe portal. The corpse slipped back enough to permit the entrance of theman's body, and as he stumbled into the room the long sword of the Lordof Yoka fell full and keen across the back of his brown neck. 

Without a sound he lunged to the floor, dead; but the women withouthad caught a fleeting glimpse of what had taken place within the littlechamber, even before Barbara Harding could slam the door again, andwith shrieks of rage and fright they rushed into the main street of thevillage shouting at the tops of their voices that Oda Yorimoto and HawaNisho had been slain by the woman of the sei-yo-jin. 

Instantly, the village swarmed with samurai, women, children, and dogs. They rushed toward the hut of Oda Yorimoto, filling the outer chamberwhere they jabbered excitedly for several minutes, the warriorsattempting to obtain a coherent story from the moaning women of thedaimio's household. 

Barbara Harding crouched close to the door, listening. She knew that thecrucial moment was at hand; that there were at best but a few momentsfor her to live. A silent prayer rose from her parted lips. She placedthe sharp point of Oda Yorimoto's short sword against her breast, andwaited--waited for the coming of the men from the room beyond, snatchinga few brief seconds from eternity ere she drove the weapon into herheart. 

Theriere plunged through the jungle at a run for several minutes beforehe caught sight of the mucker. 

"Are you still on the trail?" he called to the man before him. 

"Sure, " replied Byrne. "It's dead easy. They must o' been at least adozen of 'em. Even a mutt like me couldn't miss it. "

"We want to go carefully, Byrne, " cautioned Theriere. "I've hadexperience with these fellows before, and I can tell you that you neverknow when one of 'em is near you till you feel a spear in your back, unless you're almighty watchful. We've got to make all the haste we can, of course, but it won't help Miss Harding any if we rush into an ambushand get our heads lopped off. "

Byrne saw the wisdom of his companion's advice and tried to profit byit; but something which seemed to dominate him today carried him aheadat reckless, breakneck speed--the flight of an eagle would have been alltoo slow to meet the requirements of his unaccountable haste. 

Once he found himself wondering why he was risking his life to avenge orrescue this girl whom he hated so. He tried to think that it was for theransom--yes, that was it, the ransom. If he found her alive, and rescuedher he should claim the lion's share of the booty. 

Theriere too wondered why Byrne, of all the other men upon the Halfmoonthe last that he should have expected to risk a thing for the sake ofMiss Harding, should be the foremost in pursuit of her captors. 

"I wonder how far behind Sanders and Wison are, " he remarked to Byrneafter they had been on the trail for the better part of an hour. "Hadn'twe better wait for them to catch up with us? Four can do a whole lotmore than two. "

"Not wen Billy Byrne's one of de two, " replied the mucker, and continueddoggedly along the trail. 

Another half-hour brought them suddenly in sight of a native village, and Billy Byrne was for dashing straight into the center of it and"cleaning it up, " as he put it, but Theriere put his foot down firmly onthat proposition, and finally Byrne saw that the other was right. 

"The trail leads straight toward that place, " said Theriere, "so Isuppose here is where they brought her, but which of the huts she's innow we ought to try to determine before we make any attempt to rescueher. Well, by George! Now what do you think of that?"

"Tink o' wot?" asked the mucker. "Wot's eatin' yeh?"

"See those three men down there in the village, Byrne?" asked theFrenchman. "They're no more aboriginal headhunters than I am--they'reJaps, man. There must be something wrong with our trailing, for it's ascertain as fate itself that Japs are not head-hunters. "

"There ain't been nothin' fony about our trailin', bo, " insisted Byrne, "an' whether Japs are bean collectors or not here's where de ginks datcopped de doll hiked fer, an if dey ain't dere now it's because dey wentt'rough an' out de odder side, see. "

"Hush, Byrne, " whispered Theriere. "Drop down behind this bush. Someoneis coming along this other trail to the right of us, " and as he spoke hedragged the mucker down beside him. 

For a moment they crouched, breathless and expectant, and then the slimfigure of an almost nude boy emerged from the foliage close beside andentered the trail toward the village. Upon his head he bore a bundle offirewood. 

When he was directly opposite the watchers Theriere sprang suddenlyupon him, clapping a silencing hand over the boy's mouth. In Japanese hewhispered a command for silence. 

"We shall not harm you if you keep still, " he said, "and answer ourquestions truthfully. What village is that?"

"It is the chief city of Oda Yorimoto, Lord of Yoka, " replied the youth. "I am Oda Iseka, his son. "

"And the large hut in the center of the village street is the palace ofOda Yorimoto?" guessed Theriere shrewdly. 

"It is. "

The Frenchman was not unversed in the ways of orientals, and he guessedalso that if the white girl were still alive in the village she would bein no other hut than that of the most powerful chief; but he wished toverify his deductions if possible. He knew that a direct question as tothe whereabouts of the girl would call forth either a clever orientalevasion or an equally clever oriental lie. 

"Does Oda Yorimoto intend slaying the white woman that was brought tohis house last night?" asked Theriere. 

"How should the son know the intentions of his father?" replied the boy. 

"Is she still alive?" continued Theriere. 

"How should I know, who was asleep when she was brought, and only heardthe womenfolk this morning whispering that Oda Yorimoto had brought homea new woman the night before. "

"Could you not see her with your own eyes?" asked Theriere. 

"My eyes cannot pass through the door of the little room behind, inwhich they still were when I left to gather firewood a half hour since, "retorted the youth. 

"Wot's de Chink sayin'?" asked Billy Byrne, impatient of theconversation, no word of which was intelligible to him. 

"He says, in substance, " replied Theriere, with a grin, "that MissHarding is still alive, and in the back room of that largest hut in thecenter of the village street; but, " and his face clouded, "Oda Yorimoto, the chief of the tribe, is with her. "

The mucker sprang to his feet with an oath, and would have bolted forthe village had not Theriere laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder. 

"It is too late, my friend, " he said sadly, "to make haste now. Wemay, if we are cautious, be able to save her life, and later, possibly, avenge her wrong. Let us act coolly, and after some manner of plan, sothat we may work together, and not throw our lives away uselessly. Thechance is that neither of us will come out of that village alive, butwe must minimize that chance to the utmost if we are to serve MissHarding. "

"Well, wot's de word?" asked the mucker, for he saw that Theriere wasright. 

"The jungle approaches the village most closely on the oppositeside--the side in rear of the chief's hut, " pointed out Theriere. "Wemust circle about until we can reach that point undetected, then we mayformulate further plans from what our observations there develop. "

"An' dis?" Byrne shoved a thumb at Oda Iseka. 

"We'll take him with us--it wouldn't be safe to let him go now. "

"Why not croak him?" suggested Byrne. 

"Not unless we have to, " replied Theriere; "he's just a boy--we'lldoubtless have all the killing we want among the men before we get outof this. "

"I never did have no use fer Chinks, " said the mucker, as though inextenuation of his suggestion that they murder the youth. For someunaccountable reason he had felt a sudden compunction because of histhoughtless remark. What in the world was coming over him, he wondered. He'd be wearing white pants and playing lawn tennis presently if hecontinued to grow much softer and more unmanly. 

So the three set out through the jungle, following a trail which ledaround to the north of the village. Theriere walked ahead with the boy'sarm in his grasp. Byrne followed closely behind. They reached theirdestination in the rear of Oda Yorimoto's "palace" without interruptionor detection. Here they reconnoitered through the thick foliage. 

"Dere's a little winder in de back of de house, " said Byrne. "Dat mustbe where dem guys cooped up de little broiler. "

"Yes, " said Theriere, "it would be in the back room which the boydescribed. First let's tie and gag this young heathen, and then we canproceed to business without fear of alarm from him, " and the Frenchmanstripped a long, grass rope from about the waist of his prisoner, withwhich he was securely trussed up, a piece of his loin cloth being forcedinto his mouth as a gag, and secured there by another strip, torn fromthe same garment, which was passed around the back of the boy's head. 

"Rather uncomfortable, I imagine, " commented Theriere; "but notparticularly painful or dangerous--and now to business!"

"I'm goin' to make a break fer dat winder, " announced the mucker, "andyouse squat here in de tall grass wid yer gat an' pick off any freshguys dat get gay in back here. Den, if I need youse you can comea-runnin' an' open up all over de shop wid de artillery, or if I getsde lizzie outen de jug an' de Chinks push me too clost youse'll be herewhere yeh can pick 'em off easy-like. "

"You'll be taking all the risk that way, Byrne, " objected Theriere, "andthat's not fair. "

"One o' us is pretty sure to get hurted, " explained the mucker indefense of his plan, "an, if it's a croak it's a lot better dat it beme than youse, fer the girl wouldn't be crazy about bein' lef' alone widme--she ain't got no use fer the likes o' me. Now youse are her kin, an'so youse stay here w'ere yeh can help her after I git her out--I don'twant nothing to do wid her anyhow. She gives me a swift pain, and, " headded as though it were an after-thought, "I ain't got no use fer datransom eider--youse can have dat, too. "

"Hold on, Byrne, " cried Theriere; "I have something to say, too. I donot see how I can expect you to believe me; but under the circumstances, when one of us and maybe both are pretty sure to die before the day ismuch older, it wouldn't be worth while lying. I do not want that damnedransom any more, either. I only want to do what I can to right the wrongthat I have helped to perpetrate against Miss Harding. I--I--Byrne, I love her. I shall never tell her so, for I am not the sort of man adecent girl would care to marry; but I did want the chance to make aclean breast to her of all my connection with the whole dirty business, and get her forgiveness if I could; but first I wanted to prove myrepentance by helping her to civilization in safety, and delivering herto her friends without the payment of a cent of money. I may never beable to do that now; but if I die in the attempt, and you don't, I wishthat you would tell her what I have just told you. Paint me as black asyou can--you couldn't commence to make me as black as I have been--butlet her know that for love of her I turned white at the last minute. Byrne, she is the best girl that you or I ever saw--we're not fit tobreathe the same air that she breathes. Now you can see why I shouldlike to go first. "

"I t'ought youse was soft on her, " replied the mucker, "an' dat's dereason w'y youse otter not go first; but wot's de use o' chewin', lesflip a coin to see w'ich goes an w'ich stays--got one?"

Theriere felt in his trousers' pocket, fishing out a dime. 

"Heads, you go; tails, I go, " he said and spun the silver piece in theair, catching it in the flat of his open palm. 

"It's heads, " said the mucker, grinning. "Gee! Wot's de racket?"

Both men turned toward the village, where a jabbering mob of half-casteJapanese had suddenly appeared in the streets, hurrying toward the hutof Oda Yorimoto. 

"Somepin doin', eh?" said the mucker. "Well, here goes--s'long!" And hebroke from the cover of the jungle and dashed across the clearing towardthe rear of Oda Yorimoto's hut. 

CHAPTER XII. THE FIGHT IN THE PALACE

BARBARA HARDING heard the samurai in the room beyond her prisonadvancing toward the door that separated them from her. She pressed thepoint of the daimio's sword close to her heart. A heavy knock fell uponthe door and at the same instant the girl was startled by a noise behindher--a noise at the little window at the far end of the room. 

Turning to face this new danger, she was startled into a little cryof surprise to see the head and shoulders of the mucker framed in thebroken square of the half-demolished window. 

The girl did not know whether to feel renewed hope or utter despair. Shecould not forget the heroism of her rescue by this brutal fellow whenthe Halfmoon had gone to pieces the day before, nor could she banishfrom her mind his threats of violence toward her, or his brutaltreatment of Mallory and Theriere. And the question arose in her mind asto whether she would be any better off in his power than in the clutchesof the savage samurai. 

Billy Byrne had heard the knock upon the door before which the girlknelt. He had seen the corpses of the dead men at her feet. He hadobserved the telltale position of the sword which the girl held to herbreast and he had read much of the story of the impending tragedy at aglance. 

"Cheer up, kid!" he whispered. "I'll be wid youse in a minute, an'Theriere's out here too, to help youse if I can't do it alone. "

The girl turned toward the door again. 

"Wait, " she cried to the samurai upon the other side, "until I move thedead men, then you may come in, their bodies bar the door now. "

All that kept the warriors out was the fear that possibly Oda Yorimotomight not be dead after all, and that should they force their way intothe room without his permission some of them would suffer for theirtemerity. Naturally none of them was keen to lose his head for nothing, but the moment that the girl spoke of the dead "men" they knew that OdaYorimoto had been slain, too, and with one accord they rushed the littledoor. 

The girl threw all her weight against her side, while the dead men, eachto the extent of his own weight, aided the woman who had killed them inher effort to repulse their fellows; and behind the three Billy Byrnekicked and tore at the mud wall about the window in a frantic effortto enlarge the aperture sufficiently to permit his huge bulk to passthrough into the little room. 

The mucker won to the girl's side first, and snatching Oda Yorimoto'slong sword from the floor he threw his great weight against the door, and commanded the girl to make for the window and escape to the forestas quickly as she could. 

"Theriere is waiting dere, " he said. "He will see youse de moment yehreach de window, and den youse will be safe. "

"But you!" cried the girl. "What of you?"

"Never yeh mind me, " commanded Billy Byrne. "Youse jes' do as I tellsyeh, see? Now, beat it, " and he gave her a rough shove toward thewindow. 

And then, between the combined efforts of the samurai upon one side andBilly Byrne of Kelly's gang upon the other the frail door burst from itsrotten hinges and fell to one side. 

The first of the samurai into the little room was cleft from crown tobreast bone with the keen edge of the sword of the Lord of Yoka wieldedby the mighty arm of the mucker. The second took the count with a lefthook to the jaw, and then all that could crowd through the little doorswarmed upon the husky bruiser from Grand Avenue. 

Barbara Harding took one look at the carnage behind her and then sprangto the window. At a short distance she saw the jungle and at its edgewhat she was sure was the figure of a man crouching in the long grass. 

"Mr. Theriere!" she cried. "Quick! They are killing Byrne, " and thenshe turned back into the room, and with the short sword which she stillgrasped in her hand sprang to the side of the mucker who was offeringhis life to save her. 

Byrne cast a horrified glance at the figure fighting by his side. 

"Fer de love o' Mike! Beat it!" he cried. "Duck! Git out o' here!"

But the girl only smiled up bravely into his face and kept her placebeside him. The mucker tried to push her behind him with one hand whilehe fought with the other, but she drew away from him to come up again alittle farther from him. 

The samurai were pushing them closely now. Three men at a time werereaching for the mucker with their long swords. He was bleeding fromnumerous wounds, but at his feet lay two dead warriors, while a thirdcrawled away with a mortal wound in his abdomen. 

Barbara Harding devoted her energies to thrusting and cutting at thosewho tried to press past the mucker, that they might take him frombehind. The battle could not last long, so unequal were the odds. Shesaw the room beyond filled with surging warriors all trying to forcetheir way within reach of the great white man who battled like somedemigod of old in the close, dark, evil warren of the daimio. 

She shot a side glance at the man. He was wonderful! The fire of battlehad transformed him. No longer was he the sullen, sulky, hulking bruteshe had first known upon the Halfmoon. Instead, huge, muscular, alert, he towered above his pygmy antagonists, his gray eyes gleaming, ahalf-smile upon his strong lips. 

She saw the long sword, wielded awkwardly in his unaccustomed hands, beat down the weapons of his skilled foemen by the very ferocity of itshurtling attack. She saw it pass through a man's shoulder, cleavingbone and muscle as if they had been cheese, until it stopped two-thirdsacross its victim's body, cutting him almost in two. 

She saw a samurai leap past her champion's guard in an attempt to closeupon him with a dagger, and when she had rushed forward to thwartthe fellow's design she had seen Byrne swing his mighty left to thewarrior's face with a blow that might well have felled an ox. Thenanother leaped into closer quarters and she saw Byrne at the sameinstant bury his sword in the body of a dark-visaged devil who lookedmore Malay than Jap, and as the stricken man fell she saw the hilt ofthe mucker's blade wrenched from his grip by the dead body of his foe. The samurai who had closed upon Byrne at that instant found his enemyunarmed, and with a howl of delight he struck full at the broad chestwith his long, thin dagger. 

But Billy Byrne was not to be dispatched so easily. With his leftforearm he struck up the hand that wielded the menacing blade, and thencatching the fellow by the shoulder swung him around, grasped him aboutthe waist and lifting him above his head hurled him full in the faces ofthe swordsmen who were pressing through the narrow doorway. 

Almost simultaneously a spear shot through a tiny opening in the ranksbefore Billy Byrne, and with a little gasp of dismay the huge fellowpitched forward upon his face. At the same instant a shot rang outbehind Barbara Harding, and Theriere leaped past her to stand across thebody of the fallen mucker. 

With the sound of the shot a samurai sank to the floor, dead, and theothers, unaccustomed to firearms, drew back in dismay. Again Therierefired point-blank into the crowded room, and this time two men fell, struck by the same bullet. Once more the warriors retreated, and with anexultant yell Theriere followed up his advantage by charging menacinglyupon them. They stood for a moment, then wavered, turned and fled fromthe hut. 

When Theriere turned back toward Barbara Harding he found her kneelingbeside the mucker. 

"Is he dead?" asked the Frenchman. 

"No. Can we lift him together and get him through that window?"

"It is the only way, " replied Theriere, "and we must try it. "

They seized upon the huge body and dragged it to the far end of theroom, but despite their best efforts the two were not able to lift thegreat, inert mass of flesh and bone and muscle and pass it through thetiny opening. 

"What shall we do?" cried Theriere. 

"We must stay here with him, " replied Barbara Harding. "I could neverdesert the man who has fought so noble a fight for me while a breath oflife remained in him. "

Theriere groaned. 

"Nor I, " he said; "but you--he has given his life to save yours. Shouldyou render his sacrifice of no avail now?"

"I cannot go alone, " she answered simply, "and I know that you will notleave him. There is no other way--we must stay. "

At this juncture the mucker opened his eyes. 

"Who hit me?" he murmured. "Jes' show me de big stiff. " Theriere couldnot repress a smile. Barbara Harding again knelt beside the man. 

"No one hit you, Mr. Byrne, " she said. "You were struck by a spear andare badly wounded. "

Billy Byrne opened his eyes a little wider, turning them until theyrested on the beautiful face of the girl so close to his. 

 "MR. Byrne!" he ejaculated in disgust. "Forget it. Wot doyouse tink I am, one of dose paper-collar dudes?"

Then he sat up. Blood was flowing from a wound in his chest, saturatinghis shirt, and running slowly to the earth floor. There were two fleshwounds upon his head--one above the right eye and the other extendingentirely across the left cheek from below the eye to the lobe of theear--but these he had received earlier in the fracas. From crown to heelthe man was a mass of blood. Through his crimson mask he looked at thepile of bodies in the far end of the room, and a broad grin cracked thedried blood about his mouth. 

"Wot we done to dem Chinks was sure a plenty, kiddo, " he remarked toMiss Harding, and then he came to his feet, seemingly as strong as ever, shaking himself like a great bull. "But I guess it's lucky youse buttedin when you did, old pot, " he added, turning toward Theriere; "dey jestabout had me down fer de long count. "

Barbara Harding was looking at the man in wide-eyed amazement. A momentbefore she had been expecting him, momentarily, to breathe his last--nowhe was standing before her talking as unconcernedly as though he had notreceived a scratch--he seemed totally unaware of his wounds. At least hewas entirely indifferent to them. 

"You're pretty badly hurt, old man, " said Theriere. "Do you feel ableto make the attempt to get to the jungle? The Japs will be back in amoment. "

"Sure!" cried Billy Byrne. "Come ahead, " and he sprang for the window. "Pass de kid up to me. Quick! Dey're comin' from in back. "

Theriere lifted Barbara Harding to the mucker who drew her through theopening. Then Billy extended a hand to the Frenchman, and a moment laterthe three stood together outside the hut. 

A dozen samurai were running toward them from around the end of the"Palace. " The jungle lay a hundred yards across the clearing. There wasno time to be lost. 

"You go first with Miss Harding, " cried Theriere. "I'll cover ourretreat with my revolver, following close behind you. "

The mucker caught the girl in his arms, throwing her across hisshoulder. The blood from his wounds smeared her hands and clothing. 

"Hang tight, kiddo, " he cried, and started at a brisk trot toward theforest. 

Theriere kept close behind the two, reserving his fire until it could beeffectively delivered. With savage yells the samurai leaped after theirescaping quarry. The natives all carried the long, sharp spears of theaboriginal head-hunters. Their swords swung in their harness, and theirancient armor clanked as they ran. 

It was a strange, weird picture that the oddly contrasted partypresented as they raced across the clearing of this forgotten isletoward a jungle as primitive as when "the evening and the morning werethe third day. " An American girl of the highest social caste borne inthe arms of that most vicious of all social pariahs--the criminal muckerof the slums of a great city--and defending them with drawn revolver, a French count and soldier of fortune, while in their wake streameda yelling pack of half-caste demons clothed in the habiliments ofsixteenth century Japan, and wielding the barbarous spears of the savagehead-hunting aborigines whose fierce blood coursed in their veins withthat of the descendants of Taka-mi-musu-bi-no-kami. 

Three-quarters of the distance had been covered in safety before thesamurai came within safe spear range of the trio. Theriere, seeing thedanger to the girl, dropped back a few paces hoping to hold the brownwarriors from her. The foremost of the pursuers raised his weapon aloft, carrying his spear hand back of his shoulder for the throw. Theriere'srevolver spoke, and the man pitched forward, rolling over and overbefore he came to rest. 

A howl of rage went up from the samurai, and a half-dozen spears leapedat long range toward Theriere. One of the weapons transfixed his thigh, bringing him to earth. Byrne was at the forest's edge as the Frenchmanfell--it was the girl, though, who witnessed the catastrophe. 

"Stop!" she cried. "Mr. Theriere is down. "

The mucker halted, and turned his head in the direction of theFrenchman, who had raised himself to one elbow and was firing at theadvancing enemy. He dropped the girl to her feet. 

"Wait here!" he commanded and sprang back toward Theriere. 

Before he reached him another spear had caught the man full in thechest, toppling him, unconscious, to the earth. The samurai were rushingrapidly upon the wounded officer--it was a question who would reach himfirst. 

Theriere had been nipped in the act of reloading his revolver. It laybeside him now, the cylinder full of fresh cartridges. The mucker wasfirst to his side, and snatching the weapon from the ground fired coollyand rapidly at the advancing Japanese. Four of them went down beforethat deadly fusillade; but the mucker cursed beneath his breath becauseof his two misses. 

Byrne's stand checked the brown men momentarily, and in the succeedinglull the man lifted the unconscious Frenchman to his shoulder and borehim back to the forest. In the shelter of the jungle they laid him uponthe ground. To the girl it seemed that the frightful wound in his chestmust prove fatal within a few moments. 

Byrne, apparently unmoved by the seriousness of Theriere's condition, removed the man's cartridge belt and buckled it about his own waist, replacing the six empty shells in the revolver with six fresh ones. Presently he noticed the bound and gagged Oda Iseka lying in the brushbehind them where he and Theriere had left him. The samurai were nowsneaking cautiously toward their refuge. A sudden inspiration came tothe mucker. 

"Didn't I hear youse chewin' de rag wit de Chinks wen I hit de dump overdere?" he asked of Barbara. 

The girl, oddly, understood him. She nodded her head, affirmatively. 

"Youse savvy deyre lingo den, eh?"

"A little. "

"Tell dis gazimbat to wise his pals to de fact dat I'll croak 'im, ifdey don't beat it, an' let us make our get-away. Theriere says as howhe's kink when his ole man croaks, an' his ole man was de guy youseput to sleep in de chicken coop, " explained the mucker lucidly; "so disslob's kink hisself now. "

Barbara Harding was quick to see the strength of the man's suggestion. Stepping to the edge of the clearing in full view of the advancingenemy, with the mucker at her side, revolver in hand, she called to themin the language of their forbears to listen to her message. Then sheexplained that they held the son of Oda Yorimoto prisoner, and that hislife would be the price of any further attack upon them. 

The samurai conferred together for a moment, then one of them called outthat they did not believe her, that Oda Iseka, son of Oda Yorimoto, wassafe in the village. 

"Wait!" replied the girl. "We will show him to you, " and turning toByrne she asked him to fetch the youth. 

When the white man returned with the boy in his arms, a wail of mingledanguish and rage rose from the natives. 

"If you molest us no further we shall not harm him, " cried Barbara, "andwhen we leave your island we shall set him free; but renew your attackupon us and this white man who holds him says that he will cut out hisheart and feed it to the fox, " which was rather a bloodthirsty statementfor so gentle a character as Barbara Harding; but she knew enough of thesuperstitious fears of the ancient Japanese to feel confident that thisthreat would have considerable weight with the subjects of the youngLord of Yoka. 

Again the natives conferred in whispers. Finally he who had acted asspokesman before turned toward the strangers. 

"We shall not harm you, " he said, "so long as you do not harm Oda Iseka;but we shall watch you always until you leave the island, and if harmbefalls him then shall you never leave, for we shall kill you all. "

Barbara translated the man's words to the mucker. 

"Do youse fall fer dat?" he asked. 

"I think they will be careful to make no open assault upon us, " repliedthe girl; "but never for an instant must we cease our watchfulness forat the first opportunity I am sure that they will murder us. "

They turned back to Theriere now. The man still lay, unconscious andmoaning, where Byrne had deposited him. The mucker removed the gag fromOda Iseka's mouth. 

"Which way is water? Ask him, " he said to Barbara. 

The girl put the question. 

"He says that straight up this ravine behind us there is a littlespring, " translated the girl. 

Byrne lifted Theriere in his arms, after loosening Oda Iseka's feet andtethering him to his own belt with the same grass rope; then he motionedthe youth up the ravine. 

"Walk beside me, " he said to Barbara Harding, "an' keep yer lamps peeledbehind. "

Thus, in silence, the party commenced the ascent of the trail whichsoon became rough and precipitous, while behind them, under cover of thebrush, sneaked four trailing samurai. 

After half an hour of the most arduous climbing the mucker commencedto feel the effects of loss of blood from his many wounds. He cougheda little now from the exertion, and when he did the blood spurted anewfrom the fresh wound in his breast. 

Yet there was no wavering or weakness apparent to the girl who marchedbeside him, and she wondered at the physical endurance of the man. But when at last they came to a clear pool of water, half hidden byoverhanging rocks and long masses of depending mosses, in the midst ofa natural grotto of enchanting loveliness, and Oda Iseka signaledthat their journey was at an end, Byrne laid Theriere gently uponthe flower-starred sward, and with a little, choking gasp collapsed, unconscious, beside the Frenchman. 

Barbara Harding was horror-stricken. She suddenly realized that she hadcommenced to feel that this giant of the slums was invulnerable, andwith the thought came another--that to him she had come to look morethan to Theriere for eventual rescue; and now, here she found herself inthe center of a savage island, surrounded as she felt confident she wasby skulking murderers, with only two dying white men and a brown hostageas companions. 

And now Oda Iseka took in the situation, and with a grin of triumphraised his voice in a loud halloo. 

"Come quickly, my people!" he cried; "for both the white men are dying, "and from the jungle below them came an answering shout. 

"We come, Oda Iseka, Lord of Yoka! Your faithful samurai come!"

CHAPTER XIII. A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE

AT THE sound of the harsh voices so close upon her Barbara Harding wasgalvanized into instant action. Springing to Byrne's side she whippedTheriere's revolver from his belt, where it reposed about the fallenmucker's hips, and with it turned like a tigress upon the youth. 

"Quick!" she cried. "Tell them to go back--that I shall kill you if theycome closer. "

The boy shrank back in terror before the fiery eyes and menacingattitude of the white girl, and then with the terror that animated himringing plainly in his voice he screamed to his henchmen to halt. 

Relieved for a moment at least from immediate danger Barbara Hardingturned her attention toward the two unconscious men at her feet. Fromappearances it seemed that either might breathe his last at any moment, and as she looked at Theriere a wave of compassion swept over her, andthe tears welled to her eyes; yet it was to the mucker that she firstministered--why, she could not for the life of her have explained. 

She dashed cold water from the spring upon his face. She bathed hiswrists, and washed his wounds, tearing strips from her skirt to bandagethe horrid gash upon his breast in an effort to stanch the flow oflifeblood that welled forth with the man's every breath. 

And at last she was rewarded by seeing the flow of blood quelled andsigns of returning consciousness appear. The mucker opened his eyes. Close above him bent the radiant vision of Barbara Harding's face. Uponhis fevered forehead he felt the soothing strokes of her cool, softhand. He closed his eyes again to battle with the effeminate realizationthat he enjoyed this strange, new sensation--the sensation of beingministered to by a gentle woman--and, perish the thought, by agentlewoman!

With an effort he raised himself to one elbow, scowling at her. 

"Gwan, " he said; "I ain't no boob dude. Cut out de mush. Lemme be. Beatit!"

Hurt, more than she would have cared to admit, Barbara Hardingturned away from her ungrateful and ungracious patient, to repeather ministrations to the Frenchman. The mucker read in her expressionsomething of the wound his words had inflicted, and he lay thinkingupon the matter for some time, watching her deft, white fingers as theyworked over the scarce breathing Theriere. 

He saw her wash the blood and dirt from the ghastly wound in the man'schest, and as he watched he realized what a world of courage it mustrequire for a woman of her stamp to do gruesome work of this sort. Neverbefore would such a thought have occurred to him. Neither would hehave cared at all for the pain his recent words to the girl mighthave inflicted. Instead he would have felt keen enjoyment of herdiscomfiture. 

And now another strange new emotion took possession of him. It was noneother than a desire to atone in some way for his words. What wonderfultransformation was taking place in the heart of the Kelly gangster?

"Say!" he blurted out suddenly. 

Barbara Harding turned questioning eyes toward him. In them was thecold, haughty aloofness again that had marked her cognizance of him uponthe Halfmoon--the look that had made his hate of her burn most fiercely. It took the mucker's breath away to witness it, and it made the speechhe had contemplated more difficult than ever--nay, almost impossible. He coughed nervously, and the old dark, lowering scowl returned to hisbrow. 

"Did you speak?" asked Miss Harding, icily. 

Billy Byrne cleared his throat, and then there blurted from his lipsnot the speech that he had intended, but a sudden, hateful rush of wordswhich seemed to emanate from another personality, from one whom BillyByrne once had been. 

"Ain't dat boob croaked yet?" he growled. 

The shock of that brutal question brought Barbara Harding to her feet. In horror she looked down at the man who had spoken thus of a brave andnoble comrade in the face of death itself. Her eyes blazed angrily ashot, bitter words rushed to her lips, and then of a sudden she thoughtof Byrne's self-sacrificing heroism in returning to Theriere's side inthe face of the advancing samurai--of the cool courage he had displayedas he carried the unconscious man back to the jungle--of thedevotion, almost superhuman, that had sustained him as he struggled, uncomplaining, up the steep mountain path with the burden of theFrenchman's body the while his own lifeblood left a crimson trail behindhim. 

Such deeds and these words were incompatible in the same individual. There could be but one explanation--Byrne must be two men, with astotally different characters as though they had possessed separatebodies. And who may say that her hypothesis was not correct--at leastit seemed that Billy Byrne was undergoing a metamorphosis, and atthe instant there was still a question as to which personality shouldeventually dominate. 

Byrne turned away from the reproach which replaced the horror inthe girl's eyes, and with a tired sigh let his head fall upon hisoutstretched arm. The girl watched him for a moment, a puzzledexpression upon her face, and then returned to work above Theriere. 

The Frenchman's respiration was scarcely appreciable, yet after a timehe opened his eyes and looked up wearily. At sight of the girl he smiledwanly, and tried to speak, but a fit of coughing flecked his lips withbloody foam, and again he closed his eyes. Fainter and fainter camehis breathing, until it was with difficulty that the girl detected anymovement of his breast whatever. She thought that he was dying, and shewas afraid. Wistfully she looked toward the mucker. The man still laywith his head buried in his arm, but whether he were wrapped in thought, in slumber, or in death the girl could not tell. At the final thoughtshe went white with terror. 

Slowly she approached the man, and leaning over placed her hand upon hisshoulder. 

"Mr. Byrne!" she whispered. 

The mucker turned his face toward her. It looked tired and haggard. 

"Wot is it?" he asked, and his tone was softer than she had ever heardit. 

"I think Mr. Theriere is dying, " she said, "and I--I-- Oh, I am soafraid. "

The man flushed to the roots of his hair. All that he could think ofwere the ugly words he had spoken a short time before--and now Therierewas dying! Byrne would have laughed had anyone suggested that heentertained any other sentiment than hatred toward the second officer ofthe Halfmoon--that is he would have twenty-four hours before; but now, quite unexpectedly, he realized that he didn't want Theriere to die, andthen it dawned upon him that a new sentiment had been born within him--asentiment to which he had been a stranger all his hard life--friendship. 

He felt friendship for Theriere! It was unthinkable, and yet the muckerknew that it was so. Painfully he crawled over to the Frenchman's side. 

"Theriere!" he whispered in the man's ear. 

The officer turned his head wearily. 

"Do youse know me, old pal?" asked the mucker, and Barbara Harding knewfrom the man's voice that there were tears in his eyes; but what she didnot know was that they welled there in response to the words the muckerhad just spoken--the nearest approach to words of endearment that everhad passed his lips. 

Theriere reached up and took Byrne's hand. It was evident that he toohad noted the unusual quality of the mucker's voice. 

"Yes, old man, " he said very faintly, and then "water, please. "

Barbara Harding brought him a drink, holding his head against her kneewhile he drank. The cool liquid seemed to give him new strength forpresently he spoke, quite strongly. 

"I'm going, Byrne, " he said; "but before I go I want to tell you that ofall the brave men I ever have known I have learned within the past fewdays to believe that you are the bravest. A week ago I thought you werea coward--I ask your forgiveness. "

"Ferget it, " whispered Byrne, "fer a week ago I guess I was a coward. Dere seems to be more'n one kind o' nerve--I'm jest a-learnin' of theright kind, I guess. "

"And, Byrne, " continued Theriere, "don't forget what I asked of youbefore we tossed up to see which should enter Oda Yorimoto's house. "

"I'll not ferget, " said Billy. 

"Good-bye, Byrne, " whispered Theriere. "Take good care of Miss Harding. "

"Good-bye, old pal, " said the mucker. His voice broke, and two big tearsrolled down the cheeks of "de toughest guy on de Wes' Side. "

Barbara Harding stepped to Theriere's side. 

"Good-bye, my friend, " she said. "God will reward you for yourfriendship, your bravery, and your devotion. There must be a specialhonor roll in heaven for such noble men as you. " Theriere smiled sadly. 

"Byrne will tell you all, " he said, "except who I am--he does not knowthat. "

"Is there any message, my friend, " asked the girl, "that you would liketo have me deliver?"

Theriere remained silent for a moment as though thinking. 

"My name, " he said, "is Henri Theriere. I am the Count de Cadenet ofFrance. There is no message, Miss Harding, other than you see fitto deliver to my relatives. They lived in Paris the last I heard ofthem--my brother, Jacques, was a deputy. "

His voice had become so low and weak that the girl could scarcedistinguish his words. He gasped once or twice, and then tried to speakagain. Barbara leaned closer, her ear almost against his lips. 

"Good-bye--dear. " The words were almost inaudible, and then the bodystiffened with a little convulsive tremor, and Henri Theriere, Count deCadenet, passed over into the keeping of his noble ancestors. 

"He's gone!" whispered the girl, dry-eyed but suffering. She had notloved this man, she realized, but she had learned to think of him as herone true friend in their little world of scoundrels and murderers. Shehad cared for him very much--it was entirely possible that some dayshe might have come to return his evident affection for her. She knewnothing of the seamy side of his hard life. She had guessed nothing ofthe scoundrelly duplicity that had marked his first advances toward her. She thought of him only as a true, brave gentleman, and in that she wasright, for whatever Henri Theriere might have been in the past the lastfew days of his life had revealed him in the true colors that birth andnature had intended him to wear through a brilliant career. In his deathhe had atoned for many sins. 

And in those last few days he had transferred, all unknown to himselfor the other man, a measure of the gentility and chivalry that were hisbirthright, for, unrealizing, Billy Byrne was patterning himself afterthe man he had hated and had come to love. 

After the girl's announcement the mucker had continued to sit with bowedhead staring at the ground. Afternoon had deepened into evening, andnow the brief twilight of the tropics was upon them--in a few moments itwould be dark. 

Presently Byrne looked up. His eyes wandered about the tiny clearing. Suddenly he staggered to his feet. Barbara Harding sprang up, startledby the evident alarm in the man's attitude. 

"What is it?" she whispered. "What is the matter?"

"De Chink!" he cried. "Where is de Chink?"

And, sure enough, Oda Iseka had disappeared!

The youthful daimio had taken advantage of the preoccupation of hiscaptors during the last moments of Theriere to gnaw in two the grassrope which bound him to the mucker, and with hands still fast boundbehind him had slunk into the jungle path that led toward his village. 

"They will be upon us again now at any moment, " whispered the girl. "What can we do?"

"We better duck, " replied the mucker. "I hates to run away from a bunchof Chinks, but I guess it's up to us to beat it. "

"But poor Mr. Theriere?" asked the girl. 

"I'll have to bury him close by, " replied the mucker. "I don't tink Icould pack him very fer tonight--I don't feel jest quite fit agin yet. You wouldn't mind much if I buried him here, would you?"

"There is no other way, Mr. Byrne, " replied the girl. "You mustn'tthink of trying to carry him far. We have done all we can for poorMr. Theriere--you have almost given your life for him already--and itwouldn't do any good to carry his dead body with us. "

"I hates to tink o' dem head-huntin' Chinks gettin' him, " replied Byrne;"but maybe I kin hide his grave so's dey won't tumble to it. "

"You are in no condition to carry him at all, " said the girl. "I doubtif you can go far even without any burden. "

The mucker grinned. 

"Youse don't know me, miss, " he said, and stooping he lifted the body ofthe Frenchman to his broad shoulder, and started up the hillside throughthe trackless underbrush. 

It would have been an impossible feat for an ordinary man in the pinkof condition, but the mucker, weak from pain and loss of blood, strodesturdily upward while the marveling girl followed close behind him. Ahundred yards above the spring they came upon a little level spot, andhere with the two swords of Oda Yorimoto which they still carried theyscooped a shallow grave in which they placed all that was mortal of theCount de Cadenet. 

Barbara Harding whispered a short prayer above the new-made grave, whilethe mucker stood with bowed head beside her. Then they turned to theirflight again up the wild face of the savage mountain. The moon came upat last to lighten the way for them, but it was a rough and dangerousclimb at best. In many places they were forced to walk hand in hand forconsiderable distances, and twice the mucker had lifted the girl bodilyin his arms to bear her across particularly dangerous or difficultstretches. 

Shortly after midnight they struck a small mountain stream up which theyfollowed until in a natural cul-de-sac they came upon its source andfound their farther progress barred by precipitous cliffs which roseabove them, sheer and unscalable. 

They had entered the little amphitheater through a narrow, rocky pass inthe bottom of which the tiny stream flowed, and now, weak and tired, themucker was forced to admit that he could go no farther. 

"Who'd o' t'ought dat I was such a sissy?" he exclaimed disgustedly. 

"I think that you are very wonderful, Mr. Byrne, " replied the girl. "Fewmen could have gone through what you have today and been alive now. "

The mucker made a deprecatory gesture. 

"I suppose we gotta make de best of it, " he said. "Anyhow, dis ought tomake a swell joint to defend. "

Weak as he was he searched about for some soft grasses which he threw ina pile beneath a stunted tree that grew well back in the hollow. 

"Here's yer downy, " he said, with an attempt at jocularity. "Now you'dbetter hit de hay, fer youse must be dead fagged. "

"Thanks!" replied the girl. "I AM nearly dead. "

So tired was she that she was asleep almost as soon as she had founda comfortable position in the thick mat of grass, so that she gave nothought to the strange position in which circumstance had placed her. 

The sun was well up the following morning before the girl awakened, andit was several minutes before she could readjust herself to her strangesurroundings. At first she thought that she was alone, but finally shediscerned a giant figure standing at the opening which led from theirmountain retreat. 

It was the mucker, and at sight of him there swept over the girl theterrible peril of her position--alone in the savage mountains of asavage island with the murderer of Billy Mallory--the beast that hadkicked the unconscious Theriere in the face--the mucker who had insultedand threatened to strike her! She shuddered at the thought. And thenshe recalled the man's other side, and for the life of her she could nottell whether to be afraid of him or not--it all depended upon what moodgoverned him. It would be best to propitiate him. She called a pleasantgood morning. 

Byrne turned. She was shocked at the pallor of his haggard face. 

"Good morning, " he said. "How did yeh sleep?"

"Oh, just splendidly, and you?" she replied. 

"So-so, " he answered. 

She looked at him searchingly as he approached her. 

"Why I don't believe that you have slept at all, " she cried. 

"I didn't feel very sleepy, " he replied evasively. 

"You sat up all night on guard!" she exclaimed. "You know you did. "

"De Chinks might o' been shadowin' us--it wasn't safe to sleep, " headmitted; "but I'll tear off a few dis mornin' after we find a feed ofsome kind. "

"What can we find to eat here?" she asked. 

"Dis crick is full o' fish, " he explained, "an' ef youse got a pin Iguess we kin rig up a scheme to hook a couple. "

The girl found a pin that he said would answer very nicely, and with ashoe lace for a line and a big locust as bait the mucker set forth toangle in the little mountain torrent. The fish, unwary, and hungry thusearly in the morning proved easy prey, and two casts brought forth twosplendid specimens. 

"I could eat a dozen of dem minnows, " announced the mucker, and he castagain and again, until in twenty minutes he had a goodly mess of plump, shiny trout on the grass beside him. 

With his pocketknife he cleaned and scaled them, and then between tworocks he built a fire and passing sticks through the bodies of his catchroasted them all. They had neither salt, nor pepper, nor butter, nor anyother viand than the fish, but it seemed to the girl that never in herlife had she tasted so palatable a meal, nor had it occurred to heruntil the odor of the cooking fish filled her nostrils that no food hadpassed her lips since the second day before--no wonder that the two ateravenously, enjoying every mouthful of their repast. 

"An' now, " said Billy Byrne, "I tink I'll poun' my ear fer a few. Youkin keep yer lamps peeled fer de Chinks, an' de first fony noise yousehears, w'y be sure to wake me up, " and with that he rolled over upon thegrass, asleep almost on the instant. 

The girl, to while away the time, explored their rock-bound haven. Shefound that it had but a single means of ingress, the narrow pass throughwhich the brook found outlet. Beyond the entrance she did not venture, but through it she saw, beneath, a wooded slope, and twice deer passedquite close to her, stopping at the brook to drink. 

It was an ideal spot, one whose beauties appealed to her even under theharrowing conditions which had forced her to seek its precarious safety. In another land and with companions of her own kind she could wellimagine the joy of a fortnight spent in such a sylvan paradise. 

The thought aroused another--how long would the mucker remain a safecompanion? She seemed to be continually falling from the frying pan intothe fire. So far she had not been burned, but with returning strength, and the knowledge of their utter isolation could she expect this brutalthug to place any check upon his natural desires?

Why there were few men of her own station in life with whom she wouldhave felt safe to spend a fortnight alone upon a savage, uncivilizedisland! She glanced at the man where he lay stretched in deep slumber. What a huge fellow he was! How helpless would she be were he to turnagainst her! Yet his very size; yes, and the brutality she feared, wereher only salvation against every other danger than he himself. The manwas physically a natural protector, for he was able to cope with oddsand dangers to which an ordinary man would long since have succumbed. Soshe found that she was both safer and less safe because the mucker washer companion. 

As she pondered the question her eyes roved toward the slope beyond theopening to the amphitheater. With a start she came to her feet, shadingher eyes with her hand and peering intently at something that shecould have sworn moved among the trees far below. No, she could not bemistaken--it was the figure of a man. 

Swiftly she ran to Byrne, shaking him roughly by the shoulder. 

"Someone is coming, " she cried, in response to his sleepy query. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE MUCKER SEES A NEW LIGHT

TOGETHER the girl and the mucker approached the entrance to theamphitheater. From behind a shoulder of rock they peered down into theforest below them. For several minutes neither saw any cause for alarm. 

"I guess youse must o' been seein' things, " said Byrne, drily. 

"Yes, " said the girl, "and I see them again. Look! Quick! Down there--tothe right. "

Byrne looked in the direction she indicated. 

"Chinks, " he commented. "Gee! Look at 'em comin'. Dere must be a hundredof 'em. "

He turned a rueful glance back into the amphitheater. 

"I dunno as dis place looks as good to me as it did, " he remarked. "Doseyaps wid de toad stabbers could hike up on top o' dese cliffs an' makeit a case o' 'thence by carriages to Calvary' for ours in about twoshakes. "

"Yes, " said the girl, "I'm afraid it's a regular cul-de-sac. "

"I dunno nothin' about dat, " replied the mucker; "but I do know dat ifwe wants to get out o' here we gotta get a hump on ourselves good an'lively. Come ahead, " and with his words he ran quickly throughthe entrance, and turning squarely toward the right skirted theperpendicular cliffs that extended as far as they could see to be lostto view in the forest that ran up to meet them from below. 

The trees and underbrush hid them from the head-hunters. There had beendanger of detection but for the brief instant that they passed throughthe entrance of the hollow, but at the time they had chosen the enemyhad been hidden in a clump of thick brush far down the slope. 

For hours the two fugitives continued their flight, passing over thecrest of a ridge and downward toward another valley, until by a smallbrook they paused to rest, hopeful that they had entirely eluded theirpursuers. 

Again Byrne fished, and again they sat together at a one-course meal. Asthey ate the man found himself looking at the girl more and more often. For several days the wonder of her beauty had been growing upon him, until now he found it difficult to take his eyes from her. Thrice shesurprised him in the act of staring intently at her, and each time hehad dropped his eyes guiltily. At length the girl became nervous, andthen terribly frightened--was it coming so soon?

The man had talked but little during this meal, and for the life of herBarbara Harding could not think of any topic with which to distract hisattention from his thoughts. 

"Hadn't we better be moving on?" she asked at last. 

Byrne gave a little start as though surprised in some questionable act. 

"I suppose so, " he said; "this ain't no place to spend the night--it'stoo open. We gotta find a sort o' hiding place if we can, dat a fellowkin barricade wit something. "

Again they took up their seemingly hopeless march--an aimless wanderingin search of they knew not what. Away from one danger to possibledangers many fold more terrible. Barbara's heart was very heavy, foragain she feared and mistrusted the mucker. 

They followed down the little brook now to where it emptied into a riverand then down the valley beside the river which grew wider and moreturbulent with every mile. Well past mid-afternoon they came opposite asmall, rocky island, and as Byrne's eyes fell upon it an exclamation ofgratification burst from his lips. 

"Jest de place!" he cried. "We orter be able to hide dere forever. "

"But how are we to get there?" asked the girl, looking fearfully at theturbulent river. 

"It ain't deep, " Byrne assured her. "Come ahead; I'll carry yeh acrost, "and without waiting for a reply he gathered her in his arms and starteddown the bank. 

What with the thoughts that had occupied his mind off and on during theafternoon the sudden and close contact of the girl's warm young bodyclose to his took Billy Byrne's breath away, and sent the hot bloodcoursing through his veins. It was with the utmost difficulty that herestrained a mad desire to crush her to him and cover her face withkisses. 

And then the fatal thought came to him--why should he restrain himself?What was this girl to him? Had he not always hated her and her kind? Didshe not look with loathing and contempt upon him? And to whom didher life belong anyway but to him--had he not saved it twice? Whatdifference would it make? They'd never come out of this savage worldalive, and if he didn't take her some monkey-faced Chink would get her. 

They were in the middle of the stream now. Byrne's arms already hadcommenced to tighten upon the girl. With a sudden tug he strove to pullher face down to his; but she put both hands upon his shoulders and heldhis lips at arms' length. And her wide eyes looked full into the glowinggray ones of the mucker. And each saw in the other's something that heldtheir looks for a full minute. 

Barbara saw what she had feared, but she saw too something else thatgave her a quick, pulsing hope--a look of honest love, or could she bemistaken? And the mucker saw the true eyes of the woman he loved withoutknowing that he loved her, and he saw the plea for pity and protectionin them. 

"Don't, " whispered the girl. "Please don't, you frighten me. "

A week ago Billy Byrne would have laughed at such a plea. Doubtless, too, he would have struck the girl in the face for her resistance. Hedid neither now, which spoke volumes for the change that was takingplace within him, but neither did he relax his hold upon her, or takehis burning eyes from her frightened ones. 

Thus he strode through the turbulent, shallow river to clamber up thebank onto the island. In his soul the battle still raged, but he had byno means relinquished his intention to have his way with the girl. Fear, numb, freezing fear, was in the girl's eyes now. The mucker read itthere as plain as print, and had she not said that she was frightened?That was what he had wanted to accomplish back there upon theHalfmoon--to frighten her. He would have enjoyed the sight, but he hadnot been able to accomplish the thing. Now she not only showed thatshe was frightened--she had admitted it, and it gave the mucker nopleasure--on the contrary it made him unaccountably uncomfortable. 

And then came the last straw--tears welled to those lovely eyes. Achoking sob wracked the girl's frame--"And just when I was learning totrust you so!" she cried. 

They had reached the top of the bank, now, and the man, still holdingher in his arms, stood upon a mat of jungle grass beneath a great tree. Slowly he lowered her to her feet. The madness of desire still grippedhim; but now there was another force at work combating the evil that hadpredominated before. 

Theriere's words came back to him: "Good-bye, Byrne; take good careof Miss Harding, " and his admission to the Frenchman during that lastconversation with the dying man: "--a week ago I guess I was a coward. Dere seems to be more'n one kind o' nerve--I'm just a-learnin' of theright kind, I guess. "

He had been standing with eyes upon the ground, his heavy hand stillgripping the girl's arm. He looked into her face again. She was waitingthere, her great eyes upon his filled with fear and questioning, like aprisoner before the bar awaiting the sentence of her judge. 

As the man looked at Barbara Harding standing there before him hesaw her in a strange new light, and a sudden realization of the truthflashed upon him. He saw that he could not harm her now, or ever, for heloved her!

And with the awakening there came to Billy Byrne the withering, numbingknowledge that his love must forever be a hopeless one--that this girlof the aristocracy could never be for such as he. 

Barbara Harding, still looking questioningly at him, saw the change thatcame across his countenance--she saw the swift pain that shot to theman's eyes, and she wondered. His fingers released their grasp upon herarm. His hands fell limply to his sides. 

"Don't be afraid, " he said. "Please don't be afraid o' me. I couldn'thurt youse if I tried. "

A deep sigh of relief broke from the girl's lips--relief and joy; andshe realized that its cause was as much that the man had proved true tothe new estimate she had recently placed upon him as that the danger toherself had passed. 

"Come, " said Billy Byrne, "we'd better move in a bit out o' sight o' demainland, an' look fer a place to make camp. I reckon we'd orter resthere for a few days till we git in shape ag'in. I know youse must bedead beat, an' I sure am, all right, all right. "

Together they sought a favorable site for their new home, and it wasas though the horrid specter of a few moments before had never risen tomenace them, for the girl felt that a great burden of apprehension hadbeen lifted forever from her shoulders, and though a dull ache gnawedat the mucker's heart, still he was happier than he had ever beenbefore--happy to be near the woman he loved. 

With the long sword of Oda Yorimoto, Billy Byrne cut saplings and bambooand the fronds of fan palms, and with long tough grasses bound themtogether into the semblance of a rude hut. Barbara gathered leaves andgrasses with which she covered the floor. 

"Number One, Riverside Drive, " said the mucker, with a grin, when thework was completed; "an' now I'll go down on de river front an' build deBowery. "

"Oh, are you from New York?" asked the girl. 

"Not on yer life, " replied Billy Byrne. "I'm from good ol' Chi; but Ibeen to Noo York twict wit de Goose Island Kid, an' so I knows all aboutit. De roughnecks belongs on de Bowery, so dat's wot we'll call my dumpdown by de river. You're a highbrow, so youse gotta live on RiversideDrive, see?" and the mucker laughed at his little pleasantry. 

But the girl did not laugh with him. Instead she looked troubled. 

"Wouldn't you rather be a 'highbrow' too?" she asked, "and live up onRiverside Drive, right across the street from me?"

"I don't belong, " said the mucker gruffly. 

"Wouldn't you rather belong?" insisted the girl. 

All his life Billy had looked with contempt upon the hated, pusillanimous highbrows, and now to be asked if he would not rather beone! It was unthinkable, and yet, strange to relate, he realized an oddlonging to be like Theriere, and Billy Mallory; yes, in some respectslike Divine, even. He wanted to be more like the men that the woman heloved knew best. 

"It's too late fer me ever to belong, now, " he said ruefully. "Yeh gottabe borned to it. Gee! Wouldn't I look funny in wite pants, an' one o'dem dinky, little 'Willie-off-de-yacht' lids?"

Even Barbara had to laugh at the picture the man's words raised to herimagination. 

"I didn't mean that, " she hastened to explain. "I didn't mean that youmust necessarily dress like them; but BE like them--act like them--talklike them, as Mr. Theriere did, you know. He was a gentleman. "

"An' I'm not, " said Billy. 

"Oh, I didn't mean THAT, " the girl hastened to explain. 

"Well, whether youse meant it or not, it's so, " said the mucker. "Iain't no gent--I'm a mucker. I have your word for it, you know--yehsaid so that time on de Halfmoon, an' I ain't fergot it; but youse wasright--I am a mucker. I ain't never learned how to be anything else. Iain't never wanted to be anything else until today. Now, I'd like to bea gent; but it's too late. "

"Won't you try?" asked the girl. "For my sake?"

"Go to't, " returned the mucker cheerfully; "I'd even wear side whiskersfer youse. "

"Horrors!" exclaimed Barbara Harding. "I couldn't look at you if youdid. "

"Well, then, tell me wot youse do want me to do. "

Barbara discovered that her task was to be a difficult one if she wereto accomplish it without wounding the man's feelings; but she determinedto strike while the iron was hot and risk offending him--why she shouldbe interested in the regeneration of Mr. Billy Byrne it never onceoccurred to her to ask herself. She hesitated a moment before speaking. 

"One of the first things you must do, Mr. Byrne, " she said, "is to learnto speak correctly. You mustn't say 'youse' for 'you, ' or 'wot' for'what'---you must try to talk as I talk. No one in the world speaksany language faultlessly, but there are certain more or less obviousirregularities of grammar and pronunciation that are particularlydistasteful to people of refinement, and which are easy to guard againstif one be careful. "

"All right, " said Billy Byrne, "youse--you kin pitch in an' learn mewot--whatever you want to an' I'll do me best to talk like a dude--feryour sake. "

And so the mucker's education commenced, and as there was little elsefor the two to do it progressed rapidly, for once started the mangrew keenly interested, spurred on by the evident pleasure which hisself-appointed tutor took in his progress--further it meant just so muchmore of close companionship with her. 

For three weeks they never left the little island except to gather fruitwhich grew hard by on the adjacent mainland. Byrne's wounds had troubledhim considerably--at times he had been threatened with blood poisoning. His temperature had mounted once to alarming heights, and for a wholenight Barbara Harding had sat beside him bathing his forehead and easinghis sufferings as far as it lay within her power to do; but at last thewonderful vitality of the man had saved him. He was much weakened thoughand neither of them had thought it safe to attempt to seek the coastuntil he had fully regained his old-time strength. 

So far but little had occurred to give them alarm. Twice they had seennatives on the mainland--evidently hunting parties; but no sign ofpursuit had developed. Those whom they had seen had been pure-bloodMalays--there had been no samurai among them; but their savage, warlikeappearance had warned the two against revealing their presence. 

They had subsisted upon fish and fruit principally since they had cometo the island. Occasionally this diet had been relieved by messes ofwild fowl and fox that Byrne had been successful in snaring with aprimitive trap of his own invention; but lately the prey had becomewary, and even the fish seemed less plentiful. After two days of fruitdiet, Byrne announced his intention of undertaking a hunting trip uponthe mainland. 

"A mess of venison wouldn't taste half bad, " he remarked. 

"Yes, " cried the girl, "I'm nearly famished for meat--it seems as thoughI could almost eat it raw. "

"I know that I could, " stated Billy. "Lord help the deer that getswithin range of this old gat of Theriere's, and you may not get evena mouthful--I'm that hungry I'll probably eat it all, hoof, hide, andhorns, before ever I get any of it back here to you. "

"You'd better not, " laughed the girl. "Good-bye and good luck; butplease don't go very far--I shall be terribly lonely and frightenedwhile you are away. "

"Maybe you'd better come along, " suggested Billy. 

"No, I should be in the way--you can't hunt deer with a gallery, and getany. "

"Well, I'll stay within hailing distance, and you can look for me backany time between now and sundown. Good-bye, " and he picked his way downthe bank into the river, while from behind a bush upon the mainland twowicked, black eyes watched his movements and those of the girl on theshore behind him while a long, sinewy, brown hand closed more tightlyupon a heavy war spear, and steel muscles tensed for the savage springand the swift throw. 

The girl watched Billy Byrne forging his way through the swift rapids. What a mighty engine of strength and endurance he was! What a man! Yes, brute! And strange to relate Barbara Harding found herself admiring thevery brutality that once had been repellent to her. She saw him leaplightly to the opposite bank, and then she saw a quick movement in abush close at his side. She did not know what manner of thing had causedit, but her intuition warned her that behind that concealing screen laymortal danger to the unconscious man. 

"Billy!" she cried, the unaccustomed name bursting from her lipsinvoluntarily. "In the bush at your left--look out!"

At the note of warning in her voice Byrne had turned at her firstword--it was all that saved his life. He saw the half-naked savage andthe out-shooting spear arm, and as he would, instinctively, have duckeda right-for-the-head in the squared circle of his other days, he duckednow, side stepping to the right, and the heavy weapon sped harmlesslyover his shoulder. 

The warrior, with a growl of rage, drew his sharp parang, leaping toclose quarters. Barbara Harding saw Byrne whip Theriere's revolver fromits holster, and snap it in the face of the savage; but to her horrorthe cartridge failed to explode, and before he could fire again thewarrior was upon him. 

The girl saw the white man leap to one side to escape the furious cutaimed at him by his foe, and then she saw him turn with the agility of apanther and spring to close quarters with the wild man. Byrne's left armwent around the Malay's neck, and with his heavy right fist he rainedblow after blow upon the brown face. 

The savage dropped his useless parang--clawing and biting at the mightycreature in whose power he found himself; but never once did thoseterrific, relentless blows cease to fall upon his unprotected face. 

The sole witness to this battle primeval stood spellbound at the sightof the fierce, brutal ferocity of the white man, and the lion-likestrength he exhibited. Slowly but surely he was beating the face of hisantagonist into an unrecognizable pulp--with his bare hands he had metand was killing an armed warrior. It was incredible! Not even Theriereor Billy Mallory could have done such a thing. Billy Mallory! And shewas gazing with admiration upon his murderer!

CHAPTER XV. THE RESCUE

AFTER Byrne had dropped the lifeless form of his enemy to the ground heturned and retraced his steps toward the island, a broad grin upon hisface as he climbed to the girl's side. 

"I guess I'd better overhaul this gat, " he said, "and stick around home. It isn't safe to leave you alone here--I can see that pretty plainly. Gee, supposin' I'd got out of sight before he showed himself!" And theman shuddered visibly at the thought. 

The girl had not spoken and the man looked up suddenly, attracted by hersilence. He saw a look of horror in her eyes, such as he had seen thereonce before when he had kicked the unconscious Theriere that time uponthe Halfmoon. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. "What have I done now? I had tocroak the stiff--he'd have got me sure if I hadn't, and then he'd havegot you, too. I had to do it for your sake--I'm sorry you saw it. "

"It isn't that, " she said slowly. "That was very brave, and verywonderful. It's Mr. Mallory I'm thinking of. O Billy! How could you doit?"

The man hung his head. 

"Please don't, " he begged. "I'd give my life to bring him back again, for your sake. I know now that you loved him, and I've tried to do all Icould to atone for what I did to him; just as I tried to play whitewith Theriere when I found that he loved you, and intended to be on thesquare with you. He was your kind, and I hoped that by helping him towin you fairly it might help to wipe out what I had done to Mallory. I see that nothing ever can wipe that out. I've got to go through liferegretting it because you have taught me what a brutal, cowardly thing Idid. If it hadn't been for you I'd always have been proud of it--but youand Theriere taught me to look at things in a different way than I everhad learned to before. I'm not sorry for that--I'm glad, for if remorseis a part of my punishment I'll take it gladly and welcome the chance toget a little of what's coming to me. Only please don't look at me thatway any more--it's more than I can stand, from you. "

It was the first time that the man ever had opened his heart in any suchwhole-souled way to her, and it touched the girl more than she wouldhave cared to admit. 

"It would be silly to tell you that I ever can forget that terribleaffair, " she said; "but somehow I feel that the man who did that was anentirely different man from the man who has been so brave and chivalrousin his treatment of me during the past few weeks. "

"It was me that did it, though, " he said; "you can't get away from that. It'll always stick in your memory, so that you can never think of Mr. Mallory without thinking of the damned beast that murdered him--God! andI thought it smart!

"But you have no idea how I was raised, Miss Harding, " he went on. "Notthat that's any excuse for the thing I did; but it does make it seem awonder that I ever could have made a start even at being decent. Inever was well acquainted with any human being that wasn't a thief, ora pickpocket, or a murderer--and they were all beasts, each in his ownparticular way, only they weren't as decent as dumb beasts. 

"I wasn't as crafty as most of them, so I had to hold my own by bruteforce, and I did it; but, gad, how I accomplished it. The idea offighting fair, " he laughed at the thought, "was utterly unknown to me. If I'd ever have tried it I'd have seen my finish in a hurry. No onefought fair in my gang, or in any other gang that I ever ran up against. It was an honor to kill a man, and if you accomplished it by kicking himto death when he was unconscious it detracted nothing from the glory ofyour exploit--it was WHAT you did, not HOW you did it, that counted. 

"I could have been decent, though, if I'd wanted to. Other fellows whowere born and raised near me were decent enough. They got good jobs andstuck to them, and lived straight; but they made me sick--I looked downon them, and spent my time hanging around saloon corners rushing the canand insulting women--I didn't want to be decent--not until I met you, and learned to--to, " he hesitated, stammering, and the red blood creptup his neck and across his face, "and learned to want your respect. "

It wasn't what he had intended saying and the girl knew it. There spranginto her mind a sudden wish to hear Billy Byrne say the words that hehad dared not say; but she promptly checked the desire, and a momentlater a qualm of self-disgust came over her because of the weakness thathad prompted her to entertain such a wish in connection with a person ofthis man's station in life. 

Days ran into weeks, and still the two remained upon their little islandrefuge. Byrne found first one excuse and then another to delay the marchto the sea. He knew that it must be made sooner or later, and he knew, too, that its commencement would mark the beginning of the end of hisassociation with Miss Harding, and that after that was ended life wouldbe a dreary waste. 

Either they would be picked up by a passing vessel or murdered by thenatives, but in the latter event his separation from the woman he lovedwould be no more certain or absolute than in her return to her ownpeople, for Billy Byrne knew that he "didn't belong" in any society thatknew Miss Barbara Harding, and he feared that once they had regainedcivilization there would be a return on the girl's part to the oldhaughty aloofness, and that again he would be to her only a creature ofa lower order, such as she and her kind addressed with a patronizing airas, "my man. "

He intended, of course, to make every possible attempt to restore her toher home; but, he argued, was it wrong to snatch a few golden hours ofhappiness in return for his service, and as partial recompense for thelifetime of lonely misery that must be his when the woman he loved hadpassed out of his life forever? Billy thought not, and so he tarried onupon "Manhattan Island, " as Barbara had christened it, and he lived inthe second finest residence in town upon the opposite side of "RiversideDrive" from the palatial home of Miss Harding. 

Nearly two months had passed before Billy's stock of excuses anddelay ran out, and a definite date was set for the commencement of thejourney. 

"I believe, " Miss Harding had said, "that you do not wish to be rescuedat all. Most of your reasons for postponing the trip have been trivialand ridiculous--possibly you are afraid of the dangers that may liebefore us, " she added, banteringly. 

"I'm afraid you've hit it off about right, " he replied with a grin. "I don't want to be rescued, and I am very much afraid of what liesbefore--me. "

"Before YOU?"

"I'm going to lose you, any way you look at it, and--and--oh, can't yousee that I love you?" he blurted out, despite all his good intentions. 

Barbara Harding looked at him for a moment, and then she did the onething that could have hurt him most--she laughed. 

The color mounted to Billy Byrne's face, and then he went very white. 

The girl started to say something, and at the same instant there camefaintly to them from the mainland the sound of hoarse shouting, and ofshots. 

Byrne turned and started on a run in the direction of the firing, thegirl following closely behind. At the island's edge he motioned her tostop. 

"Wait here, it will be safer, " he said. "There may be white menthere--those shots sound like it, but again there may not. I want tofind out before they see you, whoever they are. "

The sound of firing had ceased now, but loud yelling was distinctlyaudible from down the river. Byrne took a step down the bank toward thewater. 

"Wait!" whispered the girl. "Here they come now, we can see them fromhere in a moment, " and she dragged the mucker down behind a bush. 

In silence the two watched the approaching party. 

"They're the Chinks, " announced Byrne, who insisted on using this wordto describe the proud and haughty samurai. 

"Yes, and there are two white men with them, " whispered Barbara Harding, a note of suppressed excitement in her voice. 

"Prisoners, " said Byrne. "Some of the precious bunch from the Halfmoondoubtless. "

The samurai were moving straight up the edge of the river. In a fewminutes they would pass within a hundred feet of the island. Billy andthe girl crouched low behind their shelter. 

"I don't recognize them, " said the man. 

"Why--why--O Mr. Byrne, it can't be possible!" cried the girl withsuppressed excitement. "Those two men are Captain Norris and Mr. Foster, mate of the Lotus!"

Byrne half rose to his feet. The party was opposite their hiding placenow. 

"Sit tight, " he whispered. "I'm goin' to get 'em, " and then, fiercely"for your sake, because I love you--now laugh, " and he was gone. 

He ran lightly down the river bank unnoticed by the samurai who hadalready passed the island. In one hand he bore the long war spear ofthe head-hunter he had slain. At his belt hung the long sword of OdaYorimoto, and in its holster reposed the revolver of the Count deCadenet. 

Barbara Harding watched him as be forded the river, and clambered up theopposite bank. She saw him spring rapidly after the samurai and theirprisoners. She saw his spear hand go up, and then from the deep lungs ofthe man rose a savage yell that would have done credit to a whole tribeof Apaches. 

The warriors turned in time to see the heavy spear flying toward themand then, as he dashed into their midst, Billy Byrne drew his revolverand fired to right and left. The two prisoners took advantage ofthe consternation of their guards to grapple with them and possessthemselves of weapons. 

There had been but six samurai in the party, two had fallen beforeByrne's initial onslaught, but the other four, recovered from theirfirst surprise, turned now to battle with all the terrific ferocity oftheir kind. 

Again, at a crucial moment, had Theriere's revolver missed fire, and indisgust Byrne discarded it, falling back upon the long sword with whichhe was no match for the samurai. Norris snatched Byrne's spear from theground, and ran it through the body of one of the Japs who was pressingByrne too closely. Odds were even now--they fought three against three. 

Norris still clung to the spear--it was by far the most effective weaponagainst the long swords of the samurai. With it he killed his antagonistand then rushed to the assistance of Foster. 

Barbara Harding from the island saw that Byrne's foe was pressing himclosely. The white man had no chance against the superior swordsmanshipof the samurai. She saw that the mucker was trying to get past the Jap'sguard and get his hands upon him, but it was evident that the man wastoo crafty and skilled a fighter to permit of that. There could be butone outcome to that duel unless Byrne had assistance, and that mightyquickly. The girl grasped the short sword that she constantly wore now, and rushed into the river. She had never before crossed it except inByrne's arms. She found the current swift and strong. It almost swepther off her feet before she was halfway across, but she never for aninstant thought of abandoning her effort. 

After what seemed an eternity she floundered out upon the mainland, andwhen she reached the top of the bank she saw to her delight that Byrnewas still on his feet, fighting. Foster and Norris were pushing theirman back--they were in no danger. 

Quickly she ran toward Byrne and the samurai. She saw a wicked smileupon the brown face of the little warrior, and then she saw his gleamingsword twist in a sudden feint, and as Byrne lunged out awkwardly toparry the expected blow the keen edge swerved and came down upon hishead. 

She was an instant too late to save, but just in time toavenge--scarcely had the samurai's sword touched the mucker than thepoint of Oda Yorimoto's short sword, wielded by the fair hand of BarbaraHarding, plunged into his heart. With a shriek he collapsed beside thebody of his victim. 

Barbara Harding threw herself beside Byrne. Apparently life was extinct. With a little cry of horror the girl put her ear close to the man'slips. She could hear nothing. 

"Come back! Come back!" she wailed. "Forgive me that cruel laugh. OBilly! Billy! I love you!" and the daughter of old Anthony Harding, multimillionaire and scion of the oldest aristocracy that Americaboasts, took the head of the Grand Avenue mucker in her arms and coveredthe white, bloody face with kisses--and in the midst of it Billy Byrneopened his eyes. 

She was caught in the act. There was no escape, and as a crimson flushsuffused her face Billy Byrne put his arms about her and drew her downuntil their lips met, and this time she did not put her hands upon hisshoulders and push him away. "I love you, Billy, " she said simply. 

"Remember who and what I am, " he cautioned, fearful lest this greathappiness be stolen away from him because she had forgotten for themoment. 

"I love you Billy, " she answered, "for what you ARE. "

"Forever?"

"Until death do us part!"

And then Norris and Foster, having dispatched their man, came runningup. 

"Is he badly hurt, madam?" cried Captain Norris. 

"I don't know, " replied Miss Harding; "I'm just trying to help him up, Captain Norris, " she laboriously explained in an effort to account forher arms about Billy's neck. 

Norris gave a start of surprise at hearing his name. 

"Who are you?" he cried. "How do you know me?" and as the girl turnedher face toward him, "Miss Harding! Thank God, Miss Harding, you aresafe. "

"But where on earth did you come from?" asked Barbara. 

"It's a long story, Miss Harding, " replied the officer, "and theending of it is going to be pretty hard on you--you must try to bear upthough. "

"You don't mean that father is dead?" she asked, a look of terror comingto her eyes. 

"Not that--we hope, " replied Norris. "He has been taken prisoner bythese half-breed devils on the island. I doubt if they have killedhim--we were going to his rescue when we ourselves were captured. He andMr. Mallory were taken three days ago. "

"Mallory!" shouted Billy Byrne, who had entirely recovered from the blowthat had merely served to stun him for a moment. "Is Mallory alive?"

"He was yesterday, " replied Norris; "these fellows from whom you sobravely rescued us told us that much. "

"Thank God!" whispered Billy Byrne. 

"What made you think he was dead?" inquired the officer, looking closelyat Byrne as though trying to place him. 

Another man might have attempted to evade the question but the newBilly Byrne was no coward in any department of his moral or physicalstructure. 

"Because I thought that I had killed him, " he replied, "the day that wetook the Lotus. "

Captain Norris looked at the speaker in undisguised horror. 

"You!" he cried. "You were one of those damned cut-throats! You the manthat nearly killed poor Mr. Mallory! Miss Harding, has he offered youany indignities?"

"Don't judge him rashly, Captain Norris, " said the girl. "But for himI should have been dead and worse than dead long since. Some day I willtell you of his heroism and his chivalry, and don't forget, Captain, that he has just saved you and Mr. Foster from captivity and probabledeath. "

"That's right, " exclaimed the officer, "and I want to thank him; but Idon't understand about Mallory. "

"Never mind about him now, " said Billy Byrne. "If he's alive that'sall that counts--I haven't got his blood on my hands. Go on with yourstory. "

"Well, after that gang of pirates left us, " continued the captain, "werigged an extra wireless that they didn't know we had, and it wasn'tlong before we raised the warship Alaska. Her commander put a crew onboard the Lotus with machinists and everything necessary to patch herup--coaled and provisioned her and then lay by while we got her inrunning order. It didn't take near as long as you would have imagined. Then we set out in company with the warship to search for the'Clarinda, ' as your Captain Simms called her. We got on her trackthrough a pirate junk just north of Luzon--he said he'd heard from thenatives of a little out-of-the-way island near Formosa that a brigantinehad been wrecked there in the recent typhoon, and his description of thevessel led us to believe that it might be the 'Clarinda, ' or Halfmoon. 

"We made the island, and after considerable search found the survivors. Each of 'em tried to lay the blame on the others, but finally they allagreed that a man by the name of Theriere with a seaman called Byrne, had taken you into the interior, and that they had believed you deaduntil a few days since they had captured one of the natives and learnedthat you had all escaped, and were wandering in some part of the islandunknown to them. 

"Then we set out with a company of marines to find you. Your father, impatient of the seeming slowness of the officer in command, pushedahead with Mr. Mallory, Mr. Poster, and myself, and two of the men ofthe Lotus whom he had brought along with us. 

"Three days ago we were attacked and your father and Mr. Mallory takenprisoners. The rest of us escaped, and endeavored to make our way backto the marines, but we became confused and have been wandering aimlesslyabout the island ever since until we were surprised by these natives afew moments ago. Both the seamen were killed in this last fight and Mr. Foster and myself taken prisoners--the rest you know. "

Byrne was on his feet now. He found his sword and revolver and replacedthem in his belt. 

"You men stay here on the island and take care of Miss Harding, " hesaid. "If I don't come back the marines will find you sooner or later, or you can make your way to the coast, and work around toward the cove. Good-bye, Miss Harding. "

"Where are you going?" cried the girl. 

"To get your father--and Mr. Mallory, " said the mucker. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE SUPREME SACRIFICE

THROUGH the balance of the day and all during the long night Billy Byrneswung along his lonely way, retracing the familiar steps of the journeythat had brought Barbara Harding and himself to the little island in theturbulent river. 

Just before dawn he came to the edge of the clearing behind the dwellingof the late Oda Yorimoto. Somewhere within the silent village he wassure that the two prisoners lay. 

During the long march he had thrashed over again and again all that thesuccess of his rash venture would mean to him. Of all those who mightconceivably stand between him and the woman he loved--the woman who hadjust acknowledged that she loved him--these two men were the most to befeared. 

Billy Byrne did not for a moment believe that Anthony Harding would lookwith favor upon the Grand Avenue mucker as a prospective son-in-law. Andthen there was Mallory! He was sure that Barbara had loved this man, andnow should he be restored to her as from the grave there seemed littledoubt but that the old love would be aroused in the girl's breast. Thetruth of the matter was that Billy Byrne could not conceive the truth ofthe testimony of his own ears--even now he scarce dared believe that thewonderful Miss Harding loved him--him, the despised mucker!

But the depth of the man's love for the girl, and the genuineness ofhis new-found character were proven beyond question by the relentlessseverity with which he put away every thought of himself and theconsequences to him in the matter he had undertaken. 

FOR HER SAKE! had become his slogan. What though the results sent himto a savage death, or to a life of lonely misery, or to the arms of hisbeloved! In the face of duty the result was all the same to Billy Byrne. 

For a moment he stood looking at the moon-bathed village, listening forany sign of wakefulness or life, then with all the stealth of an Indian, and with the trained wariness of the thief that he had been, the muckerslunk noiselessly across the clearing to the shadows of the nearest hut. 

He listened beneath the window through which he and Barbara and Therierehad made their escape a few weeks before. There was no sound fromwithin. Cautiously he raised himself to the sill, and a moment laterdropped into the inky darkness of the interior. 

With groping hands he felt about the room--it was unoccupied. Thenhe passed to the door at the far end. Cautiously he opened it until anarrow crack gave him a view of the dimly lighted chamber beyond. Withinall seemed asleep. The mucker pushed the door still further open andstepped within--so must he search every hut within the village until hehad found those he sought?

They were not there, and on silent feet that disturbed not even thelightly slumbering curs the man passed out by the front entrance intothe street beyond. 

Through a second and third hut he made his precarious way. In the fourtha man stirred as Byrne stood upon the opposite side of the room from thedoor--with a catlike bound the mucker was beside him. Would the fellowawake? Billy scarce breathed. The samurai turned restlessly, and then, with a start, sat up with wide-open eyes. At the same instant ironfingers closed upon his throat and the long sword of his dead daimiopassed through his heart. 

Byrne held the corpse until he was positive that life was extinct, thenhe dropped it quietly back upon its pallet, and departed to search theadjoining dwelling. Here he found a large front room, and a smallerchamber in the rear--an arrangement similar to that in the daimio'shouse. 

The front room revealed no clue to the missing men. Within the smaller, rear room Byrne heard the subdued hum of whispered conversation just ashe was about to open the door. Like a graven image he stood in silence, his ear glued to the frail door. For a moment he listened thus and thenhis heart gave a throb of exultation, and he could have shouted aloud inthanksgiving--the men were conversing in English!

Quietly Byrne pushed open the door far enough to admit his body. Thosewithin ceased speaking immediately. Byrne closed the door behind him, advancing until he felt one of the occupants of the room. The man shrankfrom his touch. 

"I guess we're done for, Mallory, " said the man in a low tone; "they'vecome for us. "

"Sh-sh, " warned the mucker. "Are you and Mallory alone?"

"Yes--for God's sake who are you and where did you come from?" asked thesurprised Mr. Harding. 

"Be still, " admonished Byrne, feeling for the cords that he knew mustbind the captive. 

He found them presently and with his jackknife cut them asunder. Then hereleased Mallory. 

"Follow me, " he said, "but go quietly. Take off your shoes if youhave 'em on, and hang 'em around your neck--tie the ends of the lacestogether. "

The men did as he bid and a moment later he was leading them across theroom, filled with sleeping men, women, children, and domestic animals. At the far side stood a rack filled with long swords. Byrne removed twowithout the faintest suspicion of a noise. He handed one to each of hiscompanions, cautioning them to silence with a gesture. 

But neither Anthony Harding nor Billy Mallory had had second-storyexperience, and the former struck his weapon accidentally against thedoor frame with a resounding clatter that brought half the inmatesof the room, wide-eyed, to sitting postures. The sight that met thenatives' eyes had them on their feet, yelling like madmen, and dashingtoward their escaping prisoners, in an instant. 

"Quick!" shouted Billy Byrne. "Follow me!"

Down the village street the three men ran, but the shouts of thenatives had brought armed samurai to every door with a celerity that wasuncanny, and in another moment the fugitives found themselves surroundedby a pack of howling warriors who cut at them with long swords fromevery side, blocking their retreat and hemming them in in everydirection. 

Byrne called to his companions to close in, back to back, and thus, thegangster in advance, the three slowly fought their way toward the end ofthe narrow street and the jungle beyond. The mucker fought with his longsword in one hand and Theriere's revolver in the other--hewing a waytoward freedom for the two men whom he knew would take his love fromhim. 

Beneath the brilliant tropic moon that lighted the scene almost asbrilliantly as might the sun himself the battle waged, and though theodds were painfully uneven the white men moved steadily, though slowly, toward the jungle. It was evident that the natives feared the giantwhite who led the three. Anthony Harding, familiar with Japanese, couldtranslate sufficient of their jargon to be sure of that, had not therespectful distance most of them kept from Byrne been ample proof. 

Out of the village street they came at last into the clearing. Thewarriors danced about them, yelling threats and taunts the while theymade occasional dashes to close quarters that they might deliver a swiftsword cut and retreat again before the great white devil could get themwith the sword that had been Oda Yorimoto's, or the strange fire stickthat spoke in such a terrifying voice. 

Fifty feet from the jungle Mallory went down with a spear through thecalf of his leg. Byrne saw him fall, and dropping back lifted the man tohis feet, supporting him with one arm as the two backed slowly in frontof the onpressing natives. 

The spears were flying thick and fast now, for the samurai all were uponthe same side of the enemy and there was no danger of injuring one oftheir own number with their flying weapons as there had been when thehost entirely surrounded the three men, and when the whites at lastentered the tall grasses of the jungle a perfect shower of spearsfollowed them. 

With the volley Byrne went down--he had been the principal target forthe samurai and three of the heavy shafts had pierced his body. Two wereburied in his chest and one in his abdomen. 

Anthony Harding was horrified. Both his companions were down, and thesavages were pressing closely on toward their hiding place. Mallory satupon the ground trying to tear the spear from his leg. Finally he wassuccessful. Byrne, still conscious, called to Harding to pull the threeshafts from him. 

"What are we to do?" cried the older man. "They will get us again assure as fate. "

"They haven't got us yet, " said Billy. "Wait, I got a scheme. Can youwalk, Mallory?"

Mallory staggered to his feet. 

"I'll see, " he said, and then: "Yes, I can make it. "

"Good, " exclaimed Byrne. "Now listen. Almost due north, across thisrange of hills behind us is a valley. In the center of the valley isa river. It is a good fifteen-hour march for a well man--it will takeMallory and you longer. Follow down the river till you come to a littleisland--it should be the first one from where you strike the river. Onthat island you will find Miss Harding, Norris, and Foster. Now hurry. "

"But you, man!" exclaimed Mallory. "We can't leave you. "

"Never!" said Anthony Harding. 

"You'll have to, though, " replied Billy. "That's part of the scheme. It won't work any other way. " He raised his revolver and fired a singleshot in the direction of the howling savages. "That's to let 'em knowwe're still here, " he said. "I'll keep that up, off and on, as long asI can. It'll fool 'em into thinking that we're all here, and cover yourescape. See?"

"I won't do it, " said Mallory. 

"Yes you will, " replied the mucker. "It's not any of us thatcounts--it's Miss Harding. As many as can have got to get back to herjust as quick as the Lord'll let us. I can't, so you two'll have to. I'mdone for--a blind man could see that. It wouldn't do a bit of good foryou two to hang around here and get killed, waitin' for me to die; butit would do a lot of harm, for it might mean that Miss Harding would belost too. "

"You say my daughter is on this island you speak of, with Norris andFoster--is she quite safe and well?" asked Harding. 

"Perfectly, " said Byrne; "and now beat it--you're wasting a lot ofprecious time. "

"For Barbara's sake it looks like the only way, " said Anthony Harding, "but it seems wicked and cowardly to desert a noble fellow like you, sir. "

"It is wicked, " said Billy Mallory. "There must be some other way. By the way, old man, who are you anyhow, and how did you happen to behere?"

Byrne turned his face upward so that the full moon lighted his featuresclearly. 

"There is no other way, Mallory, " he said. "Now take a good look atme--don't you recognize me?"

Mallory gazed intently at the strong face looking into his. He shook hishead. 

"There is something familiar about your face, " he said; "but I cannotplace you. Nor does it make any difference who you are--you have riskedyour life to save ours and I shall not leave you. Let Mr. Harding go--itis not necessary for both to stay. "

"You will both go, " insisted Byrne; "and you will find that it doesmake a big difference who I am. I hadn't intended telling you, but I seethere is no other way. I'm the mucker that nearly killed you on boardthe Lotus, Mallory. I'm the fellow that man-handled Miss Harding untileven that beast of a Simms made me quit, and Miss Harding has been alonewith me on this island for weeks--now go!"

He turned away so that they could no longer see his face, with themental anguish that he knew must be writ large upon it, and commencedfiring toward the natives once more. 

Anthony Harding stood with white face and clinched hands during Byrne'srecital of his identity. At its close he took a threatening step towardthe prostrate man, raising his long sword, with a muffled oath. BillyMallory sprang before him, catching his upraised arm. 

"Don't!" he whispered. "Think what we owe him now. Come!" and the twomen turned north into the jungle while Billy Byrne lay upon his bellyin the tall grass firing from time to time into the direction from whichcame an occasional spear. 

Anthony Harding and Billy Mallory kept on in silence along their dismalway. The crack of the mucker's revolver, growing fainter and fainter, asthey drew away from the scene of conflict, apprised the men that theirrescuer still lived. 

After a time the distant reports ceased. The two walked on in silencefor a few minutes. 

"He's gone, " whispered Mallory. 

Anthony Harding made no response. They did not hear any further firingbehind them. On and on they trudged. Night turned to day. Day rolledslowly on into night once more. And still they staggered on, footsoreand weary. Mallory suffered excruciating agony from his wound. Therewere times when it seemed that it would be impossible for him tocontinue another yard; but then the thought that Barbara Harding wassomewhere ahead of them, and that in a short time now they must be withher once more kept him doggedly at his painful task. 

They had reached the river and were following slowly down its bank. Themoon, full and gorgeous, flooded the landscape with silvery light. 

"Look!" exclaimed Mallory. "The island!"

"Thank God!" whispered Harding, fervently. 

On the bank opposite they stopped and hallooed. Almost instantly threefigures rushed from the interior of the island to the shore beforethem--two men and a woman. 

"Barbara!" cried Anthony Harding. "O my daughter! My daughter!"

Norris and Foster hastened through the river and brought the two mento the island. Barbara Harding threw herself into her father's arms. Amoment later she had grasped Mallory's outstretched hands, and then shelooked beyond them for another. 

"Mr. Byrne?" she asked. "Where is Mr. Byrne?"

"He is dead, " said Anthony Harding. 

The girl looked, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, at her father for a fullminute. 

"Dead!" she moaned, and fell unconscious at his feet. 

CHAPTER XVII. HOME AGAIN

BILLY BYRNE continued to fire intermittently for half an hour after thetwo men had left him. Then he fired several shots in quick succession, and dragging himself to his hands and knees crawled laboriously andpainfully back into the jungle in search of a hiding place where hemight die in peace. 

He had progressed some hundred yards when he felt the earth give waybeneath him. He clutched frantically about for support, but therewas none, and with a sickening lunge he plunged downward into Stygiandarkness. 

His fall was a short one, and he brought up with a painful thud at thebottom of a deer pit--a covered trap which the natives dig to catchtheir fleet-footed prey. 

The pain of his wounds after the fall was excruciating. His head whirleddizzily. He knew that he was dying, and then all went black. 

When consciousness returned to the mucker it was daylight. The sky aboveshone through the ragged hole that his falling body had broken in thepit's covering the night before. 

"Gee!" muttered the mucker; "and I thought that I was dead!"

His wounds had ceased to bleed, but he was very weak and stiff and sore. 

"I guess I'm too tough to croak!" he thought. 

He wondered if the two men would reach Barbara in safety. He hoped so. Mallory loved her, and he was sure that Barbara had loved Mallory. Hewanted her to be happy. No thought of jealousy entered his mind. Mallorywas her kind. Mallory "belonged. " He didn't. He was a mucker. How wouldhe have looked training with her bunch. She would have been ashamed ofhim, and he couldn't have stood that. No, it was better as it had turnedout. He'd squared himself for the beast he'd been to her, and he'dsquared himself with Mallory, too. At least they'd have only decentthoughts of him, dead; but alive, that would be an entirely differentthing. He would be in the way. He would be a constant embarrassmentto them all, for they would feel that they'd have to be nice to him inreturn for what he had done for them. The thought made the mucker sick. 

"I'd rather croak, " he murmured. 

But he didn't "croak"--instead, he waxed stronger, and toward eveningthe pangs of hunger and thirst drove him to consider means for escapingfrom his hiding place, and searching for food and water. 

He waited until after dark, and then he crawled, with utmost difficulty, from the deep pit. He had heard nothing of the natives since the nightbefore, and now, in the open, there came to him but the faint sounds ofthe village life across the clearing. 

Byrne dragged himself toward the trail that led to the spring where poorTheriere had died. It took him a long time to reach it, but at last hewas successful. The clear, cold water helped to revive and strengthenhim. Then he sought food. Some wild fruit partially satisfied him forthe moment, and he commenced the laborious task of retracing his stepstoward "Manhattan Island. "

The trail that he had passed over in fifteen hours as he had hastened tothe rescue of Anthony Harding and Billy Mallory required the betterpart of three days now. Occasionally he wondered why in the world he wastraversing it anyway. Hadn't he wanted to die, and leave Barbara free?But life is sweet, and the red blood still flowed strong in the veins ofthe mucker. 

"I can go my own way, " he thought, "and not bother her; but I'll bedinged if I want to croak in this God-forsaken hole--Grand Avenue formine, when it comes to passing in my checks. Gee! but I'd like to hearthe rattle of the Lake Street 'L' and see the dolls coming down thestation steps by Skidmore's when the crowd comes home from the Loop atnight. "

Billy Byrne was homesick. And then, too, his heart was very heavy andsad because of the great love he had found--a love which he realized wasas hopeless as it was great. He had the memory, though, of the girl'sarms about his neck, and her dear lips crushed to his for a briefinstant, and her words--ah, those words! They would ring in Billy's headforever: "I love you, Billy, for what you ARE. "

And a sudden resolve came into the mucker's mind as he whispered thosewords over and over again to himself. "I can't have her, " he said. "Sheisn't for the likes of me; but if I can't live with her, I can live forher--as she'd want me to live, and, s'help me, those words'll keep mestraight. If she ever hears of Billy Byrne again it won't be anythingto make her ashamed that she had her arms around him, kissing him, andtelling him that she loved him. "

At the river's edge across from the little island Billy came to a halt. He had reached the point near midnight, and hesitated to cross over anddisturb the party at that hour. At last, however, he decided to crossquietly, and lie down near HER hut until morning. 

The crossing was most difficult, for he was very weak, but at last hecame to the opposite bank and drew himself up to lie panting for a fewminutes on the sloping bank. Then he crawled on again up to the top, andstaggering to his feet made his way cautiously toward the two huts. Allwas quiet. He assumed that the party was asleep, and so he lay downnear the rude shelter he had constructed for Barbara Harding, and fellasleep. 

It was broad daylight when he awoke--the sun was fully three hours high, and yet no one was stirring. For the first time misgivings commenced toassail Billy's mind. Could it be possible? He crossed over to his ownhut and entered--it was deserted. Then he ran to Barbara's--it, too, wasunoccupied. They had gone!

All during the painful trip from the village to the island Billy hadmomentarily expected to meet a party of rescuers coming back for him. Hehad not been exactly disappointed, but a queer little lump had risen tohis throat as the days passed and no help had come, and now this was thefinal blow. They had deserted him! Left him wounded and dying on thissavage island without taking the trouble to assure themselves that hereally was dead! It was incredible!

"But was it?" thought Billy. "Didn't I tell them that I was dying?I thought so myself, and there is no reason why they shouldn't havethought so too. I suppose I shouldn't blame them, and I don't; but Iwouldn't have left them that way and not come back. They had a warshipfull of blue jackets and marines--there wouldn't have been much dangerto them. "

Presently it occurred to him that the party may have returned to thecoast to get the marines, and that even now they were searching forhim. He hastened to return to the mainland, and once more he took up hiswearisome journey. 

That night he reached the coast. Early the next morning he commencedhis search for the man-of-war. By walking entirely around the island heshould find her he felt sure. 

Shortly after noon he scaled a high promontory which jutted out into thesea. From its summit he had an unobstructed view of the broad Pacific. His heart leaped to his throat, for there but a short distance out werea great battleship and a trim white yacht--the Alaska and the Lotus!They were steaming slowly out to sea. 

He was just in time! Filled with happiness the mucker ran to the pointof the promontory and stripping off his shirt waved it high above hishead, the while he shouted at the top of his lungs; but the vessels kepton their course, giving no answering signal. 

For half an hour the man continued his futile efforts to attract theattention of someone on board either craft, but to his dismay he sawthem grow smaller and smaller until in a few hours they passed over therim of the world, disappearing from his view forever. 

Weak, wounded, and despairing, Billy sank to the ground, burying hisface in his arms, and there the moon found him when she rose, and he wasstill there when she passed from the western sky. 

For three months Billy Byrne lived his lonely life upon the wild island. The trapping and fishing were good and there was a plentiful supply ofgood water. He regained his lost strength, recovering entirely fromhis wounds. The natives did not molest him, for he had stumbled upon asection of the shore which they considered bewitched and to which noneof them would come under any circumstances. 

One morning, at the beginning of his fourth month of solitude, themucker saw a smudge of smoke upon the horizon. Slowly it increasedin volume and the speck beneath it resolved itself into the hull of asteamer. Closer and closer to the island it came. 

Billy gathered together a quantity of dry brush and lighted a signalfire on the lofty point from which he had seen the Alaska and the Lotusdisappear. As it commenced to blaze freely he threw fresh, green boughsupon it until a vertical column of smoke arose high above the island. 

In breathless suspense Billy watched the movements of the steamer. Atfirst it seemed that she would pass without taking notice of his signal, but at last he saw that she was changing her course and moving directlytoward the island. 

Close in she came, for the sea was calm and the water deep, and whenBilly was sure that those on board saw him and his frantic waving, hehurried, stumbling and falling, down the steep face of the cliff to thetiny beach at its foot. 

Already a boat had been lowered and was putting in for land. Billy wadedout to the end of the short shelving beach and waited. 

The sight that met the eyes of the rescuers was one that filled themwith awe, for they saw before them a huge, giant of a white man, half-naked except for a few tattered rags, who wore the long sword of anancient samurai at his side, a modern revolver at his hip, and bore inhis brawny hand the heavy war spear of a head-hunter. Long black hair, and a huge beard covered the man's head and face, but clean gray eyesshone from out of the tangle, and a broad grin welcomed them. 

"Oh, you white men!" shouted the mucker. "You certainly do look good tome. "

Six months later a big, smooth-faced giant in ill-fitting sea togsstrolled up Sixth Avenue. It was Billy Byrne--broke, but happy; GrandAvenue was less than a thousand miles away!

"Gee!" he murmured; "but it's good to be home again!"

There were places in New York where Billy would find acquaintances. One in particular he recalled--a little, third-floor gymnasium not fardistant from the Battery. Thither he turned his steps now. As he enteredthe stuffy room in which two big fellows, stripped to the waist, weresparring, a stout, low-browed man sitting in a back-tilted chairagainst one wall looked up inquiringly. Billy crossed over to him, withoutstretched hand. 

"Howdy, Professor!" he said. 

"Yeh got me, kid, " replied Professor Cassidy, taking the proffered hand. 

"I was up here with Larry Hilmore and the Goose Island Kid a year or soago--my name's Byrne, " exclaimed Billy. 

"Sure, " said the professor; "I gotcha now. You're de guy 'at Larry was atellin' me about. He said you'd be a great heavy if you'd leave de boozealone. "

Billy smiled and nodded. 

"You don't look much like a booze fighter now, " remarked Cassidy. 

"And I ain't" said the mucker. "I've been on the wagon for most a year, and I'm never comin' down. "

"That's right, kid, " said the professor; "but wots the good word? Wotyou doin' in little ol' Noo York?"

"Lookin' for a job, " said Billy. 

"Strip!" commanded Professor Cassidy. "I'm lookin' for sparrin' partnersfor a gink dat's goin' to clean up de Big Smoke--if he'll ever come backan' scrap. "

"You're on, " said Billy, commencing to divest himself of his outerclothing. 

Stripped to the waist he displayed as wondrous a set of muscles as evenProfessor Cassidy had ever seen. The man waxed enthusiastic over them. 

"You sure ought to have some wallop up your sleeve, " he said, admiringly. He then introduced Billy to the Harlem Hurricane, andBattling Dago Pete. "Pete's de guy I was tellin' you about, " explainedProfessor Cassidy. "He's got such a wallop dat I can't keep no sparrin'partners for him. The Hurricane here's de only bloke wit de guts to staywit him--he's a fiend for punishment, Hurricane is; he jest natchrlyeats it. 

"If you're broke I'll give you your keep as long as you stay wit Petean' don't get cold feet, an' I'll fix up a mill for you now an' thenso's you kin pull down a little coin fer yourself. Are you game?"

"You know it, " said Billy. 

"All to the good then, " said the professor gaily; "now you put on themitts an' spell Hurricane for a couple o' rounds. "

Billy slipped his huge hands into the tight-fitting gloves. 

"It's been more'n a year since I had these on, " he said, "an' I may bea little slow an' stale at first; but after I get warmed up I'll dobetter. "

Cassidy grinned and winked at Hurricane. "He won't never get warmed up, "Hurricane confided; "Pete'll knock his block off in about two minutes, "and the men settled back to watch the fun with ill-concealed amusementwritten upon their faces. 

What happened within the next few minutes in the stuffy little roomof Professor Cassidy's third-floor "gymnasium" marks an epoch in theprofessor's life--he still talks of it, and doubtless shall until theGreat Referee counts him out in the Last Round. 

The two men sparred for a moment, gaging one another. Then Battling DagoPete swung a vicious left that landed square on Billy's face. It wasa blow that might have felled an ox; but Billy only shook his head--itscarce seemed to jar him. Pete had half lowered his hands as herecovered from the blow, so sure he was that it would finish his newsparring partner, and now before he could regain his guard the muckertore into him like a whirlwind. That single blow to the face seemed tohave brought back to Billy Byrne all that he ever had known of the manlyart of self-defense. 

Battling Dago Pete landed a few more before the fight was over, but asany old fighter will tell you there is nothing more discouraging than todiscover that your most effective blows do not feeze your opponent, and only the knowledge of what a defeat at the hands of a new sparringpartner would mean to his future, kept him plugging away at the hopelesstask of attempting to knock out this mountain of bone and muscle. 

For a few minutes Billy Byrne played with his man, hitting him when andwhere he would. He fought, crouching, much as Jeffries used to fight, and in his size and strength was much that reminded Cassidy of thefallen idol that in his heart of hearts he still worshiped. 

And then, like a panther, the mucker sprang in with a vicious left hookto the jaw, followed, with lightning rapidity, by a right upper cut tothe chin that lifted Battling Dago Pete a foot from the floor to drophim, unconscious, against the foot of the further wall. 

It was a clean knock-out, and when Cassidy and Hurricane gotthrough ministering to the fallen man, and indications of returningconsciousness were apparent, the professor turned to Billy. 

"Got any more 'hopes' lyin' around loose?" asked the mucker with a grin. "I guess the big dinge's safe for a while yet. "

"Not if you'll keep on stayin' away from the booze, kid, " said ProfessorCassidy, "an' let me handle you. "

"I gotcha Steve, " said Billy; "go to it; but first, stake me to a feed. The front side of my stomach's wrapped around my back bone. "

CHAPTER XVIII. THE GULF BETWEEN

FOR three months Billy met has-beens, and third- and fourth-ratefighters from New York and its environs. He thrashed them all--usuallyby the knockout route and finally local sports commenced talking abouthim a bit, and he was matched up with second-raters from other cities. 

These men he cleaned up as handily as he had the others, so that it wasapparent to fight fandom that the big, quiet "unknown" was a comer;and pretty soon Professor Cassidy received an offer from anothertrainer-manager to match Billy against a real "hope" who stood in theforefront of hopedom. 

This other manager stated that he thought the mill would prove excellentpractice for his man who was having difficulty in finding opponents. Professor Cassidy thought so too, and grinned for two hours straightafter reading the challenge. 

The details of the fight were quickly arranged. In accordance with thestate regulations it was to be a ten round, no decision bout--the weightof the gloves was prescribed by law. 

The name of the "white hope" against whom Billy was to go was sufficientto draw a fair house, and there were some there who had seen Billy inother fights and looked for a good mill. When the "coming champion, "as Billy's opponent was introduced, stepped into the ring he receiveda hearty round of applause, whereas there was but a scattered rippleof handclapping to greet the mucker. It was the first time he ever hadstepped into a ring with a first-rate fighter, and as he saw the hugemuscles of his antagonist and recalled the stories he had heard ofhis prowess and science, Billy, for the first time in his life, felt atremor of nervousness. 

His eyes wandered across the ropes to the sea of faces turned up towardhim, and all of a sudden Billy Byrne went into a blue funk. ProfessorCassidy, shrewd and experienced, saw it even as soon as Billy realizedit--he saw the fading of his high hopes--he saw his castles in Spaintumbling in ruins about his ears--he saw his huge giant lying pronewithin that squared circle as the hand of the referee rose and fell incadence to the ticking of seconds that would count his man out. 

"Here, " he whispered, "take a swig o' this, " and he pressed a bottletoward Billy's lips. 

Billy shook his head. The stuff had kept him down all his life--he hadsworn never to touch another drop of it, and he never would, whether helost this and every other fight he ever fought. He had sworn to leaveit alone for HER sake! And then the gong called him to the center of thering. 

Billy knew that he was afraid--he thought that he was afraid of the big, trained fighter who faced him; but Cassidy knew that it was a plain caseof stage fright that had gripped his man. He knew, too, that it wouldbe enough to defeat Billy's every chance for victory, and after the big"white hope" had felled Billy twice in the first minute of the firstround Cassidy knew that it was all over but the shouting. 

The fans, many of them, were laughing, and yelling derogatory remarks atBilly. 

"Stan' up an' fight, yeh big stiff!" and "Back to de farm fer youse!"and then, high above the others a shrill voice cried "Coward! Coward!"

The word penetrated Billy's hopeless, muddled brain. Coward! SHE hadcalled him that once, and then she had changed her mind. Theriere hadthought him a coward, yet as he died he had said that he was the bravestman he ever had known. Billy recalled the yelling samurai with theirkeen swords and terrible spears. He saw the little room in the "palace"of Oda Yorimoto, and again he faced the brown devils who had hackedand hewed and stabbed at him that day as he fought to save the woman heloved. Coward! What was there in this padded ring for a man to fearwho had faced death as Billy had faced it, and without an instant'sconsciousness of the meaning of the word fear? What was wrong with him, and then the shouts and curses and taunts of the crowd smote upon hisears, and he knew. It was the crowd! Again the heavy fist of the "comingchampion" brought Billy to the mat, and then, before further damagecould be done him, the gong saved him. 

It was a surprised and chastened mucker that walked with bent head tohis corner after the first round. The "white hope" was grinning andconfident, and so he returned to the center of the ring for the secondround. During the short interval Billy had thrashed the whole thing out. The crowd had gotten on his nerves. He was trying to fight the wholecrowd instead of just one man--he would do better in this round; but thefirst thing that happened after he faced his opponent sent the fans intodelirious ecstasies of shouting and hooting. 

Billy swung his right for his foe's jaw--a terrible blow that would haveended the fight had it landed--but the man side-stepped it, and Billy'smomentum carried him sprawling upon his face. When he regained his feetthe "white hope" was waiting for him, and Billy went down again to liethere, quite still, while the hand of the referee marked the seconds:One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Billy opened his eyes. Seven. Billysat up. Eight. The meaning of that monotonous count finally percolatedto the mucker's numbed perceptive faculties. He was being counted out!Nine! Like a flash he was on his feet. He had forgotten the crowd. Rage--cool, calculating rage possessed him--not the feverish, hystericalvariety that takes its victim's brains away. 

They had been counting out the man whom Barbara Harding had onceloved!--the man she had thought the bravest in the world!--they weremaking a monkey and a coward of him! He'd show them!

The "white hope" was waiting for him. Billy was scarce off his kneesbefore the man rushed at him wickedly, a smile playing about his lips. It was to be the last of that smile, however. Billy met the rush withhis old familiar crouch, and stopped his man with a straight to thebody. 

Cassidy saw it and almost smiled. He didn't think that Billy could comeback--but at least he was fighting for a minute in his old form. 

The surprised "hope" rushed in to punish his presuming foe. The crowdwas silent. Billy ducked beneath a vicious left swing and put a right tothe side of the "hope's" head that sent the man to his knees. Then camethe gong. 

In the third round Billy fought carefully. He had made up his mind thathe would show this bunch of pikers that he knew how to box, so that nonemight say that he had won with a lucky punch, for Billy intended to win. 

The round was one which might fill with delight the soul of the fan whoknows the finer points of the game. And when it was over, while littledamage had been done on either side, it left no shadow of a doubt in theminds of those who knew that the unknown fighter was the more skilfulboxer. 

Then came the fourth round. Of course there was no question in the mindsof the majority of the spectators as to who would win the fight. Thestranger had merely shown one of those sudden and ephemeral bursts ofform that occasionally are witnessed in every branch of sport; but hecouldn't last against such a man as the "white hope"!--they looked for aknock-out any minute now. Nor did they look in vain. 

Billy was quite satisfied with the work he had done in the precedinground. Now he would show them another style of fighting! And he did. From the tap of the gong he rushed his opponent about the ring at will. He hit him when and where he pleased. The man was absolutely helplessbefore him. With left and right hooks Billy rocked the "comingchampion's" head from side to side. He landed upon the swelling opticsof his victim as he listed. 

Thrice he rushed him to the ropes, and once the man fell through theminto the laps of the hooting spectators--only now they were not hootingBilly. Until the gong Billy played with his man as a cat might play witha mouse; yet not once had he landed a knock-out blow. 

"Why didn't you finish him?" cried Professor Cassidy, as Billy returnedto his corner after the round. "You had 'im goin' man--why in the worlddidn't yeh finish him?"

"I didn't want to, " said Billy; "not in that round. I'm reserving thefinish for the fifth round, and if you want to win some money you cantake the hunch!"

"Do you mean it?" asked Cassidy. 

"Sure, " said Billy. "You might make more by laying that I'd make himtake the count in the first minute of the round--you can place a hundredof mine on that, if you will, please. "

Cassidy took the hunch, and a moment later as the two men faced eachother he regretted his act, for to his surprise the "white hope" came upfor the fifth round smiling and confident once more. 

"Someone's been handin' him an earful, " grumbled Cassidy, "an' it mightbe all he needed to take 'im through the first minute of the round, andmaybe the whole round--I've seen that did lots o' times. "

As the two men met the "white hope" was the aggressor. He rushed into close quarters aiming a stinging blow at Billy's face, and then toCassidy's chagrin and the crowd's wonder, the mucker lowered his guardand took the wallop full on the jaw. The blow seemed never to jar himthe least. The "hope" swung again, and there stood Billy Byrne, likea huge bronze statue taking blow after blow that would have put anordinary man down for the count. 

The fans saw and appreciated the spectacular bravado of the act, andthey went wild. Cheer on cheer rose, hoarse and deafening, to therafters. The "white hope" lost his self-control and what little remainedof his short temper, and deliberately struck Billy a foul blow, butbefore the referee could interfere the mucker swung another just suchblow as he had missed and fallen with in the second round; but this timehe did not miss--his mighty fist caught the "coming champion" on thepoint of the chin, lifted him off his feet and landed him halfwaythrough the ropes. There he lay while the referee tolled off the countof ten, and as the official took Billy's hand in his and raised italoft in signal that he had won the fight the fickle crowd cheered andscreamed in a delirium of joy. 

Cassidy crawled through the ropes and threw his arms around Billy. 

"I knew youse could do it, kid!" he screamed. "You're as good as madenow, an' you're de next champ, or I never seen one. "

The following morning the sporting sheets hailed "Sailor" Byrne as thegreatest "white hope" of them all. Flashlights of him filled a quarterof a page. There were interviews with him. Interviews with the man hehad defeated. Interviews with Cassidy. Interviews with the referee. Interviews with everybody, and all were agreed that he was the mostlikely heavy since Jeffries. Corbett admitted that, while in his primehe could doubtless have bested the new wonder, he would have found him atough customer. 

Everyone said that Byrne's future was assured. There was not a man insight who could touch him, and none who had seen him fight the nightbefore but would have staked his last dollar on him in a mill with theblack champion. 

Cassidy wired a challenge to the Negro's manager, and received an answerthat was most favorable. The terms were, as usual, rather one-sidedbut Cassidy accepted them, and it seemed before noon that a fight wasassured. 

Billy was more nearly happy again than he had been since the day he hadrenounced Barbara Harding to the man he thought she loved. He readand re-read the accounts in the papers, and then searching for morereferences to himself off the sporting page he ran upon the very namethat had been constantly in his thoughts for all these months--Harding. 

Persistent rumor has it that the engagement of the beautiful MissHarding to Wm. J. Mallory has been broken. Miss Harding could not beseen at her father's home up to a late hour last night. Mr. Malloryrefused to discuss the matter, but would not deny the rumor. 

There was more, but that was all that Billy Byrne read. The paperdropped from his hand. Battles and championships faded from histhoughts. He sat with his eyes bent upon the floor, and his mind wasthousands of miles away across the broad Pacific upon a little island inthe midst of a turbulent stream. 

And far uptown another sat with the same paper in her hand. BarbaraHarding was glancing through the sporting sheet in search of the scoresof yesterday's woman's golf tournament. And as she searched her eyessuddenly became riveted upon the picture of a giant man, and she forgotabout tournaments and low scores. Hastily she searched the heads andtext until she came upon the name--"'Sailor' Byrne!"

Yes! It must be he. Greedily she read and re-read all that had beenwritten about him. Yes, she, Barbara Harding, scion of an aristocratichouse--ultra-society girl, read and re-read the accounts of a brutalprize fight. 

A half hour later a messenger boy found "Sailor" Byrne the center ofan admiring throng in Professor Cassidy's third-floor gymnasium. Withworshiping eyes taking in his new hero from head to foot the youthhanded Byrne a note. 

He stood staring at the heavy weight until he had perused it. 

"Any answer?" he asked. 

"No answer, kid, " replied Byrne, "that I can't take myself, " and hetossed a dollar to the worshiping boy. 

An hour later Billy Byrne was ascending the broad, white steps that ledto the entrance of Anthony Harding's New York house. The servant whoanswered his ring eyed him suspiciously, for Billy Byrne still dressedlike a teamster on holiday. He had no card!

"Tell Miss Harding that Mr. Byrne has come, " he said. 

The servant left him standing in the hallway, and started to ascend thegreat staircase, but halfway up he met Miss Harding coming down. 

"Never mind, Smith, " she said. "I am expecting Mr. Byrne, " and thenseeing that the fellow had not seated her visitor she added, "He is avery dear friend. " Smith faded quickly from the scene. 

"Billy!" cried the girl, rushing toward him with out-stretched hands. "O Billy, we thought you were dead. How long have you been here? Whyhaven't you been to see me?"

Byrne hesitated. 

A great, mad hope had been surging through his being since he had readof the broken engagement and received the girl's note. And now in hereyes, in her whole attitude, he could read, as unmistakably as thoughher lips had formed the words that he had not hoped in vain. 

But some strange influence had seemed suddenly to come to work uponhim. Even in the brief moment of his entrance into the magnificence ofAnthony Harding's home he had felt a strange little stricture of thethroat--a choking, half-suffocating sensation. 

The attitude of the servant, the splendor of the furnishings, thestateliness of the great hall, and the apartments opening upon it--allhad whispered to him that he did not "belong. "

And now Barbara, clothed in some wondrous foreign creation, belied byher very appearance the expression that suffused her eyes. 

No, Billy Byrne, the mucker, did not belong there. Nor ever could hebelong, more than Barbara ever could have "belonged" on Grand Avenue. And Billy Byrne knew it now. His heart went cold. The bottom seemedsuddenly to have dropped out of his life. 

Bravely he had battled to forget this wonderful creature, or, rather, his hopeless love for her--her he could never forget. But the note fromher, and the sight of her had but served to rekindle the old fire withinhis breast. 

He thought quickly. His own life or happiness did not count. Nothingcounted now but Barbara. He had seen the lovelight in her eyes. Hethanked God that he had realized what it all would have meant, before helet her see that he had seen it. 

"I've been back several months, " he said presently, in answer to herquestion; "but I got sense enough to stay where I belong. Gee! Wouldn'tI look great comin' up here buttin' in, wit youse bunch of highlifes?"

Billy slapped his thigh resoundingly and laughed in stentorian tonesthat caused the eyebrows of the sensitive Smith on the floor above toelevate in shocked horror. 

"Den dere was de mills. I couldn't break away from me work, could I, tochase a bunch of skirts?"

Barbara felt a qualm of keen disappointment that Billy had fallen againinto the old dialect that she had all but eradicated during those daysupon distant "Manhattan Island. "

"I wouldn't o' come up atal, " he went on, "if I hadn't o' read in depoiper how youse an' Mallory had busted. I t'ought I'd breeze in an' seewot de trouble was. "

His eyes had been averted, mostly, as he talked. Now he swung suddenlyupon her. 

"He's on de square, ain't he?" he demanded. 

"Yes, " said Barbara. She was not quite sure whether to feel offended, ornot. But the memory of Billy's antecedents came to his rescue. Of coursehe didn't know that it was such terribly bad form to broach such asubject to her, she thought. 

"Well, then, " continued the mucker, "wot's up? Mallory's de guy feryouse. Youse loved him or youse wouldn't have got engaged to him. "

The statement was almost an interrogation. 

Barbara nodded affirmatively. 

"You see, Billy, " she started, "I have always known Mr. Mallory, andalways thought that I loved him until--until--" There was no answeringlight in Billy's eyes--no encouragement for the words that were onher lips. She halted lamely. "Then, " she went on presently, "we becameengaged after we reached New York. We all thought you dead, " sheconcluded simply. 

"Do you think as much of him now as you did when you promised to marryhim?" he asked, ignoring her reference to himself and all that itimplied. 

Barbara nodded. 

"What is at the bottom of this row?" persisted Billy. He had fallen backinto the decent pronunciation that Barbara had taught him, but neithernoticed the change. For a moment he had forgotten that he was playing apart. Then he recollected. 

"Nothing much, " replied the girl. "I couldn't rid myself of the feelingthat they had murdered you, by leaving you back there alone and wounded. I began to think 'coward' every time I saw Mr. Mallory. I couldn't marryhim, feeling that way toward him, and, Billy, I really never LOVED himas--as--" Again she stumbled, but the mucker made no attempt to graspthe opportunity opened before him. 

Instead he crossed the library to the telephone. Running through thebook he came presently upon the number he sought. A moment later he hadhis connection. 

"Is this Mallory?" he asked. 

"I'm Byrne--Billy Byrne. De guy dat cracked your puss fer youse on deLotus. "

"Dead, hell! Not me. Say, I'm up here at Barbara's. "

"Yes, dat's wot I said. She wants youse to beat it up here's swift asyouse kin beat it. "

Barbara Harding stepped forward. Her eyes were blazing. 

"How dare you?" she cried, attempting to seize the telephone fromBilly's grasp. 

He turned his huge frame between her and the instrument. "Git a move!"he shouted into the mouthpiece. "Good-bye!" and he hung up. 

Then he turned back toward the angry girl. 

"Look here, " he said. "Once youse was strong on de sob stuff wit me, tellin' me how noble I was, an' all de different tings youse would dofer me to repay all I done fer youse. Now youse got de chanct. "

"What do you mean?" asked the girl, puzzled. "What can I do for you?"

"Youse kin do dis fer me. When Mallory gits here youse kin tell him datde engagement is all on again--see!"

In the wide eyes of the girl Billy read a deeper hurt than he haddreamed of. He had thought that it would not be difficult for her toturn back from the vulgar mucker to the polished gentleman. And when hesaw that she was suffering, and guessed that it was because he had triedto crush her love by brute force he could carry the game no further. 

"O Barbara, " he cried, "can't you see that Mallory is your kind--that HEis a fit mate for you. I have learned since I came into this house a fewminutes ago the unbridgeable chasm that stretches between Billy Byrne, the mucker, and such as you. Once I aspired; but now I know just as youmust have always known, that a single lifetime is far too short for aman to cover the distance from Grand Avenue to Riverside Drive. 

"I want you to be happy, Barbara, just as I intend to be. Back there inChicago there are plenty of girls on Grand Avenue as straight and cleanand fine as they make 'em on Riverside Drive. Girls of my own kind, theyare, and I'm going back there to find the one that God intended for me. You've taught me what a good girl can do toward making a man of a beast. You've taught me pride and self-respect. You've taught me so much thatI'd rather that I'd died back there beneath the spears of Oda Iseka'swarriors than live here beneath the sneers and contempt of servants, andthe pity and condescension of your friends. 

"I want you to be happy, Barbara, and so I want you to promise me thatyou'll marry Billy Mallory. There isn't any man on earth quite goodenough for you; but Mallory comes nearer to it than anyone I know. I'veheard 'em talking about him around town since I came back--and thereisn't a rotten story chalked up against him nowhere, and that's a lotmore than you can say for ninety-nine of a hundred New Yorkers that aretalked about at all. 

"And Mallory's a man, too--the kind that every woman ought to have, onlythey ain't enough of 'em to go 'round. Do you remember how he stood upthere on the deck of the Lotus and fought fair against my dirty tricks?He's a man and a gentleman, Barbara--the sort you can be proud of, andthat's the sort you got to have. You see I know you. 

"And he fought against those fellows of Yoka in the street of OdaIseka's village like a man should fight. There ain't any yellow in him, Barbara, and he didn't leave me until there seemed no other way, evenin the face of the things I told them to make them go. Don't harbor thatagainst him--I only wonder that he didn't croak me; your dad wanted to, and Mallory wouldn't let him. "

"They never told me that, " said Barbara. 

The bell rang. 

"Here he is now, " said Billy. "Good-bye--I'd rather not see him. Smith'll let me out the servants' door. Guess that'll make him feelbetter. You'll do as I ask, Barbara?"

He had paused at the door, turning toward her as he asked the finalquestion. 

The girl stood facing him. Her eyes were dim with unshed tears. BillyByrne swam before them in a hazy mist. 

"You'll do as I ask, Barbara!" he repeated, but this time it was acommand. 

As Mallory entered the room Barbara heard the door of the servants'entrance slam behind Billy Byrne. 

PART II. 

CHAPTER I. THE MURDER TRIAL. 

BILLY BYRNE squared his broad shoulders and filled his deep lungs withthe familiar medium which is known as air in Chicago. He was standingupon the platform of a New York Central train that was pulling into theLa Salle Street Station, and though the young man was far from happysomething in the nature of content pervaded his being, for he was cominghome. 

After something more than a year of world wandering and strangeadventure Billy Byrne was coming back to the great West Side and GrandAvenue. 

Now there is not much upon either side or down the center of long andtortuous Grand Avenue to arouse enthusiasm, nor was Billy particularlyenthusiastic about that more or less squalid thoroughfare. 

The thing that exalted Billy was the idea that he was coming back toSHOW THEM. He had left under a cloud and with a reputation for genuinetoughness and rowdyism that has seen few parallels even in the ungentledistrict of his birth and upbringing. 

A girl had changed him. She was as far removed from Billy's sphere asthe stars themselves; but Billy had loved her and learned from her, andin trying to become more as he knew the men of her class were he hadsloughed off much of the uncouthness that had always been a part of him, and all of the rowdyism. Billy Byrne was no longer the mucker. 

He had given her up because he imagined the gulf between Grand Avenueand Riverside Drive to be unbridgeable; but he still clung to the idealsshe had awakened in him. He still sought to be all that she might wishhim to be, even though he realized that he never should see her again. 

Grand Avenue would be the easiest place to forget his sorrow--her hecould never forget. And then, his newly awakened pride urged him back tothe haunts of his former life that he might, as he would put it himself, show them. He wanted the gang to see that he, Billy Byrne, wasn't afraidto be decent. He wanted some of the neighbors to realize that he couldwork steadily and earn an honest living, and he looked forward withdelight to the pleasure and satisfaction of rubbing it in to some of thesaloon keepers and bartenders who had helped keep him drunk some fivedays out of seven, for Billy didn't drink any more. 

But most of all he wanted to vindicate himself in the eyes of theonce-hated law. He wanted to clear his record of the unjust charge ofmurder which had sent him scurrying out of Chicago over a year before, that night that Patrolman Stanley Lasky of the Lake Street Station hadtipped him off that Sheehan had implicated him in the murder of old manSchneider. 

Now Billy Byrne had not killed Schneider. He had been nowhere near theold fellow's saloon at the time of the holdup; but Sheehan, who had beenarrested and charged with the crime, was an old enemy of Billy's, andSheehan had seen a chance to divert some of the suspicion from himselfand square accounts with Byrne at the same time. 

The new Billy Byrne was ready to accept at face value everything whichseemed to belong in any way to the environment of that exalted realmwhere dwelt the girl he loved. Law, order, and justice appeared to Billyin a new light since he had rubbed elbows with the cultured and refined. 

He no longer distrusted or feared them. They would give him what hesought--a square deal. 

It seemed odd to Billy that he should be seeking anything from the lawor its minions. For years he had waged a perpetual battle with both. Nowhe was coming back voluntarily to give himself up, with every convictionthat he should be exonerated quickly. Billy, knowing his own innocence, realizing his own integrity, assumed that others must immediatelyappreciate both. 

"First, " thought Billy, "I'll go take a look at little old Grand Ave. , then I'll give myself up. The trial may take a long time, an' if it doesI want to see some of the old bunch first. "

So Billy entered an "L" coach and leaning on the sill of an openwindow watched grimy Chicago rattle past until the guard's "Granavenoo"announced the end of his journey. 

Maggie Shane was sitting on the upper step of the long flight of stairswhich lean precariously against the scarred face of the frame residenceupon the second floor front of which the lares and penates of the Shanefamily are crowded into three ill-smelling rooms. 

It was Saturday and Maggie was off. She sat there rather disconsolatefor there was a dearth of beaux for Maggie, none having arisen to fillthe aching void left by the sudden departure of "Coke" Sheehan sincethat worthy gentleman had sought a more salubrious clime--to theconsternation of both Maggie Shane and Mr. Sheehan's bondsmen. 

Maggie scowled down upon the frowsy street filled with frowsy women andfrowsy children. She scowled upon the street cars rumbling by with theirfrowsy loads. Occasionally she varied the monotony by drawing out herchewing gum to wondrous lengths, holding one end between a thumb andfinger and the other between her teeth. 

Presently Maggie spied a rather pleasing figure sauntering up thesidewalk upon her side of the street. The man was too far away forher to recognize his features, but his size and bearing and generalappearance appealed to the lonesome Maggie. She hoped it was someone sheknew, or with whom she might easily become acquainted, for Maggie wasbored to death. 

She patted the hair at the back of her head and righted the mop whichhung over one eye. Then she rearranged her skirts and waited. As the manapproached she saw that he was better looking than she had even daredto hope, and that there was something extremely familiar about hisappearance. It was not, though, until he was almost in front of thehouse that he looked up at the girl and she recognized him. 

Then Maggie Shane gasped and clutched the handrail at her side. An instant later the man was past and continuing his way along thesidewalk. 

Maggie Shane glared after him for a minute, then she ran quickly downthe stairs and into a grocery store a few doors west, where she asked ifshe might use the telephone. 

"Gimme West 2063, " she demanded of the operator, and a moment later: "Isthis Lake Street?"

"Well say, Billy Byrne's back. I just see him. "

"Yes an' never mind who I am; but if youse guys want him he's walkin'west on Grand Avenoo right now. I just this minute seen him nearLincoln, " and she smashed the receiver back into its hook. 

Billy Byrne thought that he would look in on his mother, not that heexpected to be welcomed even though she might happen to be sober, ornot that he cared to see her; but Billy's whole manner of thought hadaltered within the year, and something now seemed to tell him that itwas his duty to do the thing he contemplated. Maybe he might even be ofhelp to her. 

But when he reached the gloomy neighborhood in which his childhood hadbeen spent it was to learn that his mother was dead and that anotherfamily occupied the tumble-down cottage that had been his home. 

If Billy Byrne felt any sorrow because of his mother's death he didnot reveal it outwardly. He owed her nothing but for kicks and cuffsreceived, and for the surroundings and influences that had started himupon a life of crime at an age when most boys are just entering grammarschool. 

Really the man was relieved that he had not had to see her, and it waswith a lighter step that he turned back to retrace his way along GrandAvenue. No one of the few he had met who recognized him had seemedparticularly delighted at his return. The whole affair had beensomething of a disappointment. Therefore Billy determined to go at onceto the Lake Street Station and learn the status of the Schneider murdercase. Possibly they had discovered the real murderer, and if that wasthe case Billy would be permitted to go his way; but if not then hecould give himself up and ask for a trial, that he might be exonerated. 

As he neared Wood Street two men who had been watching his approachstepped into the doorway of a saloon, and as he passed they stepped outagain behind him. One upon either side they seized him. 

Billy turned to remonstrate. 

"Come easy now, Byrne, " admonished one of the men, "an' don't make nofuss. "

"Oh, " said Billy, "it's you, is it? Well, I was just goin' over to thestation to give myself up. "

Both men laughed, skeptically. "We'll just save you the trouble, " saidone of them. "We'll take you over. You might lose your way if you triedto go alone. "

Billy went along in silence the rest of the way to where the patrolwaited at another corner. He saw there was nothing to be gained bytalking to these detectives; but he found the lieutenant equallyinclined to doubt his intentions. He, too, only laughed when Billyassured him that he was on his way to the station at the very instant ofarrest. 

As the weeks dragged along, and Billy Byrne found no friendly interestin himself or his desire to live on the square, and no belief in hisprotestations that he had had naught to do with the killing of Schneiderhe began to have his doubts as to the wisdom of his act. 

He also commenced to entertain some of his former opinions of thepolice, and of the law of which they are supposed to be the guardians. Acell-mate told him that the papers had scored the department heavilyfor their failure to apprehend the murderer of the inoffensive oldSchneider, and that public opinion had been so aroused that a generalpolice shakeup had followed. 

The result was that the police were keen to fasten the guilt uponsomeone--they did not care whom, so long as it was someone who was intheir custody. 

"You may not o' done it, " ventured the cell-mate; "but they'll send youup for it, if they can't hang you. They're goin' to try to get the deathsentence. They hain't got no love for you, Byrne. You caused 'em a loto' throuble in your day an' they haven't forgot it. I'd hate to be inyour boots. "

Billy Byrne shrugged. Where were his dreams of justice? They seemed tohave faded back into the old distrust and hatred. He shook himself andconjured in his mind the vision of a beautiful girl who had believed inhim and trusted him--who had inculcated within him a love for all thatwas finest and best in true manhood, for the very things that he hadmost hated all the years of his life before she had come into hisexistence to alter it and him. 

And then Billy would believe again--believe that in the end justicewould triumph and that it would all come out right, just the way he hadpictured it. 

With the coming of the last day of the trial Billy found it more andmore difficult to adhere to his regard for law, order, and justice. Theprosecution had shown conclusively that Billy was a hard customer. Thepolice had brought witnesses who did not hesitate to perjure themselvesin their testimony--testimony which it seemed to Billy the densest ofjurymen could plainly see had been framed up and learned by rote untilit was letter-perfect. 

These witnesses could recall with startling accuracy every detailthat had occurred between seventeen minutes after eight and twenty-oneminutes past nine on the night of September 23 over a year before; butwhere they had been and what they had done ten minutes earlier or tenminutes later, or where they were at nine o'clock in the evening lastFriday they couldn't for the lives of them remember. 

And Billy was practically without witnesses. 

The result was a foregone conclusion. Even Billy had to admit it, andwhen the prosecuting attorney demanded the death penalty the prisonerhad an uncanny sensation as of the tightening of a hempen rope about hisneck. 

As he waited for the jury to return its verdict Billy sat in his celltrying to read a newspaper which a kindly guard had given him. But hiseyes persisted in boring through the white paper and the black type toscenes that were not in any paper. He saw a turbulent river tumblingthrough a savage world, and in the swirl of the water lay a littleisland. And he saw a man there upon the island, and a girl. The girl wasteaching the man to speak the language of the cultured, and to view lifeas people of refinement view it. 

She taught him what honor meant among her class, and that it was betterto lose any other possession rather than lose honor. Billy realized thatit had been these lessons that had spurred him on to the mad scheme thatwas to end now with the verdict of "Guilty"--he had wished to vindicatehis honor. A hard laugh broke from his lips; but instantly he soberedand his face softened. 

It had been for her sake after all, and what mattered it if they didsend him to the gallows? He had not sacrificed his honor--he had donehis best to assert it. He was innocent. They could kill him but theycouldn't make him guilty. A thousand juries pronouncing him so could notmake it true that he had killed Schneider. 

But it would be hard, after all his hopes, after all the plans he hadmade to live square, to SHOW THEM. His eyes still boring through thepaper suddenly found themselves attracted by something in the textbefore them--a name, Harding. 

Billy Byrne shook himself and commenced to read:

The marriage of Barbara, daughter of Anthony Harding, themultimillionaire, to William Mallory will take place on the twenty-fifthof June. 

The article was dated New York. There was more, but Billy did notread it. He had read enough. It is true that he had urged her to marryMallory; but now, in his lonesomeness and friendlessness, he felt almostas though she had been untrue to him. 

"Come along, Byrne, " a bailiff interrupted his thoughts, "the jury'sreached a verdict. "

The judge was emerging from his chambers as Billy was led into thecourtroom. Presently the jury filed in and took their seats. The foremanhanded the clerk a bit of paper. Even before it was read Billy knewthat he had been found guilty. He did not care any longer, so he toldhimself. He hoped that the judge would send him to the gallows. Therewas nothing more in life for him now anyway. He wanted to die. Butinstead he was sentenced to life imprisonment in the penitentiary atJoliet. 

This was infinitely worse than death. Billy Byrne was appalled at thethought of remaining for life within the grim stone walls of a prison. Once more there swept over him all the old, unreasoning hatred of thelaw and all that pertained to it. He would like to close his steelfingers about the fat neck of the red-faced judge. The smug jurymenroused within him the lust to kill. Justice! Billy Byrne laughed aloud. 

A bailiff rapped for order. One of the jurymen leaned close to aneighbor and whispered. "A hardened criminal, " he said. "Society will besafer when he is behind the bars. "

The next day they took Billy aboard a train bound for Joliet. He washandcuffed to a deputy sheriff. Billy was calm outwardly; but inwardlyhe was a raging volcano of hate. 

In a certain very beautiful home on Riverside Drive, New York City, a young lady, comfortably backed by downy pillows, sat in her bed andalternated her attention between coffee and rolls, and a morning paper. 

On the inside of the main sheet a heading claimed her languid attention:CHICAGO MURDERER GIVEN LIFE SENTENCE. Of late Chicago had aroused inBarbara Harding a greater proportion of interest than ever it had in thepast, and so it was that she now permitted her eyes to wander casuallydown the printed column. 

Murderer of harmless old saloon keeper is finally brought to justice. The notorious West Side rowdy, "Billy" Byrne, apprehended after morethan a year as fugitive from justice, is sent to Joliet for life. 

Barbara Harding sat stony-eyed and cold for what seemed many minutes. Then with a stifled sob she turned and buried her face in the pillows. 

The train bearing Billy Byrne and the deputy sheriff toward Joliet hadcovered perhaps half the distance between Chicago and Billy's permanentdestination when it occurred to the deputy sheriff that he should liketo go into the smoker and enjoy a cigar. 

Now, from the moment that he had been sentenced Billy Byrne's mind hadbeen centered upon one thought--escape. He knew that there probablywould be not the slightest chance for escape; but nevertheless the ideawas always uppermost in his thoughts. 

His whole being revolted, not alone against the injustice which hadsent him into life imprisonment, but at the thought of the long years ofawful monotony which lay ahead of him. 

He could not endure them. He would not! The deputy sheriff rose, andmotioning his prisoner ahead of him, started for the smoker. It was twocars ahead. The train was vestibuled. The first platform they crossedwas tightly enclosed; but at the second Billy saw that a careless porterhad left one of the doors open. The train was slowing down for somereason--it was going, perhaps, twenty miles an hour. 

Billy was the first upon the platform. He was the first to see the opendoor. It meant one of two things--a chance to escape, or, death. Eventhe latter was to be preferred to life imprisonment. 

Billy did not hesitate an instant. Even before the deputy sheriffrealized that the door was open, his prisoner had leaped from the movingtrain dragging his guard after him. 

CHAPTER II. THE ESCAPE

BYRNE had no time to pick any particular spot to jump for. When he didjump he might have been directly over a picket fence, or a bottomlesspit--he did not know. Nor did he care. 

As it happened he was over neither. The platform chanced to be passingacross a culvert at the instant. Beneath the culvert was a slimy pool. Into this the two men plunged, alighting unharmed. 

Byrne was the first to regain his feet. He dragged the deputy sheriff tohis knees, and before that frightened and astonished officer of the lawcould gather his wits together he had been relieved of his revolver andfound himself looking into its cold and business-like muzzle. 

Then Billy Byrne waded ashore, prodding the deputy sheriff in the ribswith cold steel, and warning him to silence. Above the pool stood alittle wood, thick with tangled wildwood. Into this Byrne forced hisprisoner. 

When they had come deep enough into the concealment of the foliage tomake discovery from the outside improbable Byrne halted. 

"Now say yer prayers, " he commanded. "I'm a-going to croak yeh. "

The deputy sheriff looked up at him in wild-eyed terror. 

"My God!" he cried. "I ain't done nothin' to you, Byrne. Haven't Ialways been your friend? What've I ever done to you? For God's sakeByrne you ain't goin' to murder me, are you? They'll get you, sure. "

Billy Byrne let a rather unpleasant smile curl his lips. 

"No, " he said, "youse ain't done nothin' to me; but you stand for thelaw, damn it, and I'm going to croak everything I meet that stands forthe law. They wanted to send me up for life--me, an innocent man. Yourkind done it--the cops. You ain't no cop; but you're just as rotten. Nowsay yer prayers. "

He leveled the revolver at his victim's head. The deputy sheriff slumpedto his knees and tried to embrace Billy Byrne's legs as he pleaded forhis life. 

"Cut it out, you poor boob, " admonished Billy. "You've gotta die and ifyou was half a man you'd wanna die like one. "

The deputy sheriff slipped to the ground. His terror had overcome him, leaving him in happy unconsciousness. Byrne stood looking down upon theman for a moment. His wrist was chained to that of the other, and thepull of the deputy's body was irritating. 

Byrne stooped and placed the muzzle of the revolver back of the man'sear. "Justice!" he muttered, scornfully, and his finger tightened uponthe trigger. 

Then, conjured from nothing, there rose between himself and theunconscious man beside him the figure of a beautiful girl. Her face wasbrave and smiling, and in her eyes was trust and pride--whole worlds ofthem. Trust and pride in Billy Byrne. 

Billy closed his eyes tight as though in physical pain. He brushed hishand quickly across his face. 

"Gawd!" he muttered. "I can't do it--but I came awful close to it. "

Dropping the revolver into his side pocket he kneeled beside the deputysheriff and commenced to go through the man's clothes. After a moment hecame upon what he sought--a key ring confining several keys. 

Billy found the one he wished and presently he was free. He still stoodlooking at the deputy sheriff. 

"I ought to croak you, " he murmured. "I'll never make my get-away if Idon't; but SHE won't let me--God bless her. "

Suddenly a thought came to Billy Byrne. If he could have a start hemight escape. It wouldn't hurt the man any to stay here for a few hours, or even for a day. Billy removed the deputy's coat and tore it intostrips. With these he bound the man to a tree. Then he fastened a gag inhis mouth. 

During the operation the deputy regained consciousness. He lookedquestioningly at Billy. 

"I decided not to croak you, " explained the young man. "I'm just a-goin'to leave you here for a while. They'll be lookin' all along the right o'way in a few hours--it won't be long afore they find you. Now so long, and take care of yerself, bo, " and Billy Byrne had gone. 

A mistake that proved fortunate for Billy Byrne caused the penitentiaryauthorities to expect him and his guard by a later train, so nosuspicion was aroused when they failed to come upon the train theyreally had started upon. This gave Billy a good two hours' start that hewould not otherwise have had--an opportunity of which he made good use. 

Wherefore it was that by the time the authorities awoke to the factthat something had happened Billy Byrne was fifty miles west of Joliet, bowling along aboard a fast Santa Fe freight. Shortly after night hadfallen the train crossed the Mississippi. Billy Byrne was hungry andthirsty, and as the train slowed down and came to a stop out in themidst of a dark solitude of silent, sweet-smelling country, Billy openedthe door of his box car and dropped lightly to the ground. 

So far no one had seen Billy since he had passed from the ken of thetrussed deputy sheriff, and as Billy had no desire to be seen he slippedover the edge of the embankment into a dry ditch, where he squatted uponhis haunches waiting for the train to depart. The stop out there in thedark night was one of those mysterious stops which trains are prone tomake, unexplained and doubtless unexplainable by any other than a higherintelligence which directs the movements of men and rolling stock. Therewas no town, and not even a switch light. Presently two staccato blastsbroke from the engine's whistle, there was a progressive jerking atcoupling pins, which started up at the big locomotive and ran rapidlydown the length of the train, there was the squeaking of brake shoesagainst wheels, and the train moved slowly forward again upon itslong journey toward the coast, gaining momentum moment by moment untilfinally the way-car rolled rapidly past the hidden fugitive and thefreight rumbled away to be swallowed up in the darkness. 

When it had gone Billy rose and climbed back upon the track, along whichhe plodded in the wake of the departing train. Somewhere a road wouldpresently cut across the track, and along the road there would befarmhouses or a village where food and drink might be found. 

Billy was penniless, yet he had no doubt but that he should eat when hehad discovered food. He was thinking of this as he walked briskly towardthe west, and what he thought of induced a doubt in his mind as towhether it was, after all, going to be so easy to steal food. 

"Shaw!" he exclaimed, half aloud, "she wouldn't think it wrong for a guyto swipe a little grub when he was starvin'. It ain't like I was goin'to stick a guy up for his roll. Sure she wouldn't see nothin' wrong forme to get something to eat. I ain't got no money. They took it all awayfrom me, an' I got a right to live--but, somehow, I hate to do it. Iwisht there was some other way. Gee, but she's made a sissy out o' me!Funny how a feller can change. Why I almost like bein' a sissy, " andBilly Byrne grinned at the almost inconceivable idea. 

Before Billy came to a road he saw a light down in a little depressionat one side of the track. It was not such a light as a lamp shiningbeyond a window makes. It rose and fell, winking and flaring close tothe ground. 

It looked much like a camp fire, and as Billy drew nearer he saw thatsuch it was, and he heard a voice, too. Billy approached more carefully. He must be careful always to see before being seen. The little fireburned upon the bank of a stream which the track bridged upon a concretearch. 

Billy dropped once more from the right of way, and climbed a fence intoa thin wood. Through this he approached the camp fire with small chanceof being observed. As he neared it the voice resolved itself intoarticulate words, and presently Billy leaned against a tree close behindthe speaker and listened. 

There was but a single figure beside the small fire--that of a mansquatting upon his haunches roasting something above the flames. At oneedge of the fire was an empty tin can from which steam arose, and anaroma that was now and again wafted to Billy's nostrils. 

Coffee! My, how good it smelled. Billy's mouth watered. But thevoice--that interested Billy almost as much as the preparations for thecoming meal. 

 We'll dance a merry saraband from here to drowsy Samarcand. Along the sea, across the land, the birds are flying South, And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me, With buds, of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth. 

The words took hold of Billy somewhere and made him forget his hunger. Like a sweet incense which induces pleasant daydreams they were waftedin upon him through the rich, mellow voice of the solitary camper, andthe lilt of the meter entered his blood. 

But the voice. It was the voice of such as Billy Byrne always hadloathed and ridiculed until he had sat at the feet of Barbara Hardingand learned many things, including love. It was the voice of cultureand refinement. Billy strained his eyes through the darkness to have acloser look at the man. The light of the camp fire fell upon frayed andbagging clothes, and upon the back of a head covered by a shapeless, anddisreputable soft hat. 

Obviously the man was a hobo. The coffee boiling in a discarded tin canwould have been proof positive of this without other evidence; but thereseemed plenty more. Yes, the man was a hobo. Billy continued to standlistening. 

 The mountains are all hid in mist, the valley is like amethyst, The poplar leaves they turn and twist, oh, silver, silver green! Out there somewhere along the sea a ship is waiting patiently, While up the beach the bubbles slip with white afloat between. 

"Gee!" thought Billy Byrne; "but that's great stuff. I wonder where hegets it. It makes me want to hike until I find that place he's singin'about. "

Billy's thoughts were interrupted by a sound in the wood to one side ofhim. As he turned his eyes in the direction of the slight noise whichhad attracted him he saw two men step quietly out and cross toward theman at the camp fire. 

These, too, were evidently hobos. Doubtless pals of the poetical one. The latter did not hear them until they were directly behind him. Thenhe turned slowly and rose as they halted beside his fire. 

"Evenin', bo, " said one of the newcomers. 

"Good evening, gentlemen, " replied the camper, "welcome to my humblehome. Have you dined?"

"Naw, " replied the first speaker, "we ain't; but we're goin' to. Now canthe chatter an' duck. There ain't enough fer one here, let alonethree. Beat it!" and the man, who was big and burly, assumed a menacingattitude and took a truculent step nearer the solitary camper. 

The latter was short and slender. The larger man looked as thoughhe might have eaten him at a single mouthful; but the camper did notflinch. 

"You pain me, " he said. "You induce within me a severe and highlylocalized pain, and furthermore I don't like your whiskers. "

With which apparently irrelevant remark he seized the matted beard ofthe larger tramp and struck the fellow a quick, sharp blow in the face. Instantly the fellow's companion was upon him; but the camper retainedhis death grip upon the beard of the now yelling bully and continued torain blow after blow upon head and face. 

Billy Byrne was an interested spectator. He enjoyed a good fight as heenjoyed little else; but presently when the first tramp succeeded intangling his legs about the legs of his chastiser and dragging him tothe ground, and the second tramp seized a heavy stick and ran forward todash the man's brains out, Billy thought it time to interfere. 

Stepping forward he called aloud as he came: "Cut it out, boes! Youcan't pull off any rough stuff like that with this here sweet singer. Can it! Can it!" as the second tramp raised his stick to strike the nowprostrate camper. 

As he spoke Billy Byrne broke into a run, and as the stick fell hereached the man's side and swung a blow to the tramp's jaw that sentthe fellow spinning backward to the river's brim, where he tottereddrunkenly for a moment and then plunged backward into the shallow water. 

Then Billy seized the other attacker by the shoulder and dragged him tohis feet. 

"Do you want some, too, you big stiff?" he inquired. 

The man spluttered and tried to break away, striking at Billy as he didso; but a sudden punch, such a punch as Billy Byrne had once handed thesurprised Harlem Hurricane, removed from the mind of the tramp the lastvestige of any thought he might have harbored to do the newcomer bodilyinjury, and with it removed all else from the man's mind, temporarily. 

As the fellow slumped, unconscious, to the ground, the camper rose tohis feet. 

"Some wallop you have concealed in your sleeve, my friend, " he said;"place it there!" and he extended a slender, shapely hand. 

Billy took it and shook it. 

"It don't get under the ribs like those verses of yours, though, bo, " hereturned. 

"It seems to have insinuated itself beneath this guy's thick skull, "replied the poetical one, "and it's a cinch my verses, nor any otherwould ever get there. "

The tramp who had plumbed the depths of the creek's foot of water andtwo feet of soft mud was crawling ashore. 

"Whadda YOU want now?" inquired Billy Byrne. "A piece o' soap?"

"I'll get youse yet, " spluttered the moist one through his waterywhiskers. 

"Ferget it, " admonished Billy, "an' hit the trail. " He pointed towardthe railroad right of way. "An' you, too, John L, " he added turningto the other victim of his artistic execution, who was now sitting up. "Hike!"

Mumbling and growling the two unwashed shuffled away, and were presentlylost to view along the vanishing track. 

The solitary camper had returned to his culinary effort, as unruffledand unconcerned, apparently, as though naught had occurred to disturbhis peaceful solitude. 

"Sit down, " he said after a moment, looking up at Billy, "and have abite to eat with me. Take that leather easy chair. The Louis Quatorze istoo small and spindle-legged for comfort. " He waved his hand invitinglytoward the sward beside the fire. 

For a moment he was entirely absorbed in the roasting fowl impaled upona sharp stick which he held in his right hand. Then he presently brokeagain into verse. 

 Around the world and back again; we saw it all. The mist and rain

 In England and the hot old plain from Needles to Berdoo. We kept a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled rhyme-- Blind-baggage, hoof it, ride or climb--we always put it through. 

"You're a good sort, " he broke off, suddenly. "There ain't many boesthat would have done as much for a fellow. "

"It was two against one, " replied Billy, "an' I don't like them odds. Besides I like your poetry. Where d'ye get it--make it up?"

"Lord, no, " laughed the other. "If I could do that I wouldn't bepan-handling. A guy by the name of Henry Herbert Knibbs did them. Great, ain't they?"

"They sure is. They get me right where I live, " and then, after a pause;"sure you got enough fer two, bo?"

"I have enough for you, old top, " replied the host, "even if I only hadhalf as much as I have. Here, take first crack at the ambrosia. SorryI have but a single cup; but James has broken the others. James is verycareless. Sometimes I almost feel that I shall have to let him go. "

"Who's James?" asked Billy. 

"James? Oh, James is my man, " replied the other. 

Billy looked up at his companion quizzically, then he tasted the dark, thick concoction in the tin can. 

"This is coffee, " he announced. "I thought you said it was ambrose. "

"I only wished to see if you would recognize it, my friend, " replied thepoetical one politely. "I am highly complimented that you can guess whatit is from its taste. "

For several minutes the two ate in silence, passing the tin can back andforth, and slicing--hacking would be more nearly correct--pieces of meatfrom the half-roasted fowl. It was Billy who broke the silence. 

"I think, " said he, "that you been stringin' me--'bout James andambrose. "

The other laughed good-naturedly. 

"You are not offended, I hope, " said he. "This is a sad old world, youknow, and we're all looking for amusement. If a guy has no money to buyit with, he has to manufacture it. "

"Sure, I ain't sore, " Billy assured him. "Say, spiel that part again'bout Penelope with the kisses on her mouth, an' you can kid me till thecows come home. "

The camper by the creek did as Billy asked him, while the latter satwith his eyes upon the fire seeing in the sputtering little flames theoval face of her who was Penelope to him. 

When the verse was completed he reached forth his hand and took the tincan in his strong fingers, raising it before his face. 

"Here's to--to his Knibbs!" he said, and drank, passing the batteredthing over to his new friend. 

"Yes, " said the other; "here's to his Knibbs, and--Penelope!"

"Drink hearty, " returned Billy Byrne. 

The poetical one drew a sack of tobacco from his hip pocket and arumpled package of papers from the pocket of his shirt, extending bothtoward Billy. 

"Want the makings?" he asked. 

"I ain't stuck on sponging, " said Billy; "but maybe I can get even someday, and I sure do want a smoke. You see I was frisked. I ain't gotnothin'--they didn't leave me a sou markee. "

Billy reached across one end of the fire for the tobacco and cigarettepapers. As he did so the movement bared his wrist, and as the firelightfell upon it the marks of the steel bracelet showed vividly. In the fallfrom the train the metal had bitten into the flesh. 

His companion's eyes happened to fall upon the telltale mark. Therewas an almost imperceptible raising of the man's eyebrows; but he saidnothing to indicate that he had noticed anything out of the ordinary. 

The two smoked on for many minutes without indulging in conversation. The camper quoted snatches from Service and Kipling, then he came backto Knibbs, who was evidently his favorite. Billy listened and thought. 

"Goin' anywheres in particular?" he asked during a momentary lull in therecitation. 

"Oh, south or west, " replied the other. "Nowhere in particular--anyplace suits me just so it isn't north or east. "

"That's me, " said Billy. 

"Let's travel double, then, " said the poetical one. "My name's Bridge. "

"And mine's Billy. Here, shake, " and Byrne extended his hand. 

"Until one of us gets wearied of the other's company, " said Bridge. 

"You're on, " replied Billy. "Let's turn in. "

"Good, " exclaimed Bridge. "I wonder what's keeping James. He should havebeen here long since to turn down my bed and fix my bath. "

Billy grinned and rolled over on his side, his head uphill and his feettoward the fire. A couple of feet away Bridge paralleled him, and infive minutes both were breathing deeply in healthy slumber. 

CHAPTER III. "FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD"

"'WE KEPT a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled rhyme, '"quoted Billy Byrne, sitting up and stretching himself. 

His companion roused and came to one elbow. The sun was topping thescant wood behind them, glinting on the surface of the little creek. Arobin hopped about the sward quite close to them, and from the branchof a tree a hundred yards away came the sweet piping of a song bird. Farther off were the distance-subdued noises of an awakening farm. Thelowing of cows, the crowing of a rooster, the yelping of a happy dogjust released from a night of captivity. 

Bridge yawned and stretched. Billy rose to his feet and shook himself. 

"This is the life, " said Bridge. "Where you going?"

"To rustle grub, " replied Billy. "That's my part o' the sketch. "

The other laughed. "Go to it, " he said. "I hate it. That's the part thathas come nearest making me turn respectable than any other. I hate toask for a hand-out. "

Billy shrugged. He'd done worse things than that in his life, and off hetrudged, whistling. He felt happier than he had for many a day. He neverhad guessed that the country in the morning could be so beautiful. 

Behind him his companion collected the material for a fire, washedhimself in the creek, and set the tin can, filled with water, at theedge of the kindling, and waited. There was nothing to cook, so it wasuseless to light the fire. As he sat there, thinking, his mind revertedto the red mark upon Billy's wrist, and he made a wry face. 

Billy approached the farmhouse from which the sounds of awakening stillemanated. The farmer saw him coming, and ceasing his activities aboutthe barnyard, leaned across a gate and eyed him, none too hospitably. 

"I wanna get something to eat, " explained Billy. 

"Got any money to pay for it with?" asked the farmer quickly. 

"No, " said Billy; "but me partner an' me are hungry, an' we gotta eat. "

The farmer extended a gnarled forefinger and pointed toward the rearof the house. Billy looked in the direction thus indicated and espied awoodpile. He grinned good naturedly. 

Without a word he crossed to the corded wood, picked up an ax which wasstuck in a chopping block, and, shedding his coat, went to work. Thefarmer resumed his chores. Half an hour later he stopped on his way into breakfast and eyed the growing pile that lay beside Billy. 

"You don't hev to chop all the wood in the county to get a meal from JedWatson, " he said. 

"I wanna get enough for me partner, too, " explained Billy. 

"Well, yew've chopped enough fer two meals, son, " replied the farmer, and turning toward the kitchen door, he called: "Here, Maw, fix this boyup with suthin' t'eat--enough fer a couple of meals fer two on 'em. "

As Billy walked away toward his camp, his arms laden with milk, butter, eggs, a loaf of bread and some cold meat, he grinned rather contentedly. 

"A year or so ago, " he mused, "I'd a stuck 'em up fer this, an' thoughtI was smart. Funny how a feller'll change--an' all fer a skirt. A skirtthat belongs to somebody else now, too. Hell! what's the difference, anyhow? She'd be glad if she knew, an' it makes me feel better to actlike she'd want. That old farmer guy, now. Who'd ever have taken him ferhavin' a heart at all? Wen I seen him first I thought he'd like to sicthe dog on me, an' there he comes along an' tells 'Maw' to pass me ahand-out like this! Gee! it's a funny world. She used to say that mosteverybody was decent if you went at 'em right, an' I guess she knew. She knew most everything, anyway. Lord, I wish she'd been born on GrandAve. , or I on Riverside Drive!"

As Billy walked up to his waiting companion, who had touched a match tothe firewood as he sighted the numerous packages in the forager's arms, he was repeating, over and over, as though the words held him in thethrall of fascination: "There ain't no sweet Penelope somewhere that'slonging much for me. "

Bridge eyed the packages as Billy deposited them carefully and one ata time upon the grass beside the fire. The milk was in a clean littlegraniteware pail, the eggs had been placed in a paper bag, while theother articles were wrapped in pieces of newspaper. 

As the opening of each revealed its contents, fresh, clean, andinviting, Bridge closed one eye and cocked the other up at Billy. 

"Did he die hard?" he inquired. 

"Did who die hard?" demanded the other. 

"Why the dog, of course. "

"He ain't dead as I know of, " replied Billy. 

"You don't mean to say, my friend, that they let you get away with allthis without sicing the dog on you, " said Bridge. 

Billy laughed and explained, and the other was relieved--the red markaround Billy's wrist persisted in remaining uppermost in Bridge's mind. 

When they had eaten they lay back upon the grass and smoked some more ofBridge's tobacco. 

"Well, " inquired Bridge, "what's doing now?"

"Let's be hikin', " said Billy. 

Bridge rose and stretched. "'My feet are tired and need a change. Comeon! It's up to you!'" he quoted. 

Billy gathered together the food they had not yet eaten, and made twoequal-sized packages of it. He handed one to Bridge. 

"We'll divide the pack, " he explained, "and here, drink the rest o' thismilk, I want the pail. "

"What are you going to do with the pail?" asked Bridge. 

"Return it, " said Billy. "'Maw' just loaned it to me. "

Bridge elevated his eyebrows a trifle. He had been mistaken, after all. At the farmhouse the farmer's wife greeted them kindly, thanked Billyfor returning her pail--which, if the truth were known, she had notexpected to see again--and gave them each a handful of thick, light, golden-brown cookies, the tops of which were encrusted with sugar. 

As they walked away Bridge sighed. "Nothing on earth like a good woman, "he said. 

"'Maw, ' or 'Penelope'?" asked Billy. 

"Either, or both, " replied Bridge. "I have no Penelope, but I did have amighty fine 'maw'. "

Billy made no reply. He was thinking of the slovenly, blear-eyed womanwho had brought him into the world. The memory was far from pleasant. Hetried to shake it off. 

"'Bridge, '" he said, quite suddenly, and apropos of nothing, in aneffort to change the subject. "That's an odd name. I've heard of Bridgesand Bridger; but I never heard Bridge before. "

"Just a name a fellow gave me once up on the Yukon, " explained Bridge. "I used to use a few words he'd never heard before, so he called me 'TheUnabridged, ' which was too long. The fellows shortened it to 'Bridge'and it stuck. It has always stuck, and now I haven't any other. I eventhink of myself, now, as Bridge. Funny, ain't it?"

"Yes, " agreed Billy, and that was the end of it. He never thoughtof asking his companion's true name, any more than Bridge would havequestioned him as to his, or of his past. The ethics of the roadsidefire and the empty tomato tin do not countenance such impertinences. 

For several days the two continued their leisurely way toward KansasCity. Once they rode a few miles on a freight train, but for the mostpart they were content to plod joyously along the dusty highways. Billycontinued to "rustle grub, " while Bridge relieved the monotony by anoccasional burst of poetry. 

"You know so much of that stuff, " said Billy as they were smoking bytheir camp fire one evening, "that I'd think you'd be able to make someup yourself. "

"I've tried, " admitted Bridge; "but there always seems to be somethinglacking in my stuff--it don't get under your belt--the divine afflatusis not there. I may start out all right, but I always end up where Ididn't expect to go, and where nobody wants to be. "

"'Member any of it?" asked Billy. 

"There was one I wrote about a lake where I camped once, " said Bridge, reminiscently; "but I can only recall one stanza. "

"Let's have it, " urged Billy. "I bet it has Knibbs hangin' to theropes. "

Bridge cleared his throat, and recited:

 Silver are the ripples, Solemn are the dunes, Happy are the fishes, For they are full of prunes. 

He looked up at Billy, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "How's that?" he asked. 

Billy scratched his head. 

"It's all right but the last line, " said Billy, candidly. "There issomething wrong with that last line. "

"Yes, " agreed Bridge, "there is. "

"I guess Knibbs is safe for another round at least, " said Billy. 

Bridge was eying his companion, noting the broad shoulders, the deepchest, the mighty forearm and biceps which the other's light cottonshirt could not conceal. 

"It is none of my business, " he said presently; "but from your generalappearance, from bits of idiom you occasionally drop, and from the wayyou handled those two boes the night we met I should rather surmise thatat some time or other you had been less than a thousand miles from thew. K. Roped arena. "

"I seen a prize fight once, " admitted Billy. 

It was the day before they were due to arrive in Kansas City that Billyearned a hand-out from a restaurant keeper in a small town by doing someodd jobs for the man. The food he gave Billy was wrapped in an old copyof the Kansas City Star. When Billy reached camp he tossed the packageto Bridge, who, in addition to his honorable post as poet laureate, wasalso cook. Then Billy walked down to the stream, near-by, that he mightwash away the grime and sweat of honest toil from his hands and face. 

As Bridge unwrapped the package and the paper unfolded beneath his eyesan article caught his attention--just casually at first; but presentlyto the exclusion of all else. As he read his eyebrows alternatedbetween a position of considerable elevation to that of a deep frown. Occasionally he nodded knowingly. Finally he glanced up at Billy who wasjust rising from his ablutions. Hastily Bridge tore from the paper thearticle that had attracted his interest, folded it, and stuffed it intoone of his pockets--he had not had time to finish the reading and hewanted to save the article for a later opportunity for careful perusal. 

That evening Bridge sat for a long time scrutinizing Billy throughhalf-closed lids, and often he found his eyes wandering to the red ringabout the other's wrist; but whatever may have been within his thoughtshe kept to himself. 

It was noon when the two sauntered into Kansas City. Billy had adollar in his pocket--a whole dollar. He had earned it assisting anautomobilist out of a ditch. 

"We'll have a swell feed, " he had confided to Bridge, "an' sleep in abed just to learn how much nicer it is sleepin' out under the black skyand the shiny little stars. "

"You're a profligate, Billy, " said Bridge. 

"I dunno what that means, " said Billy; "but if it's something Ishouldn't be I probably am. "

The two went to a rooming-house of which Bridge knew, where they couldget a clean room with a double bed for fifty cents. It was rather a highprice to pay, of course, but Bridge was more or less fastidious, andhe admitted to Billy that he'd rather sleep in the clean dirt of theroadside than in the breed of dirt one finds in an unclean bed. 

At the end of the hall was a washroom, and toward this Bridge made hisway, after removing his coat and throwing it across the foot of thebed. After he had left the room Billy chanced to notice a folded bit ofnewspaper on the floor beneath Bridge's coat. He picked it up to layit on the little table which answered the purpose of a dresser when asingle word caught his attention. It was a name: Schneider. 

Billy unfolded the clipping and as his eyes took in the heading astrange expression entered them--a hard, cold gleam such as had nottouched them since the day that he abandoned the deputy sheriff in thewoods midway between Chicago and Joliet. 

This is what Billy read:

Billy Byrne, sentenced to life imprisonment in Joliet penitentiary forthe murder of Schneider, the old West Side saloon keeper, hurled himselffrom the train that was bearing him to Joliet yesterday, dragging withhim the deputy sheriff to whom he was handcuffed. 

The deputy was found a few hours later bound and gagged, lying in thewoods along the Santa Fe, not far from Lemont. He was uninjured. Hesays that Byrne got a good start, and doubtless took advantage of it toreturn to Chicago, where a man of his stamp could find more numerous andsafer retreats than elsewhere. 

There was much more--a detailed account of the crime for the commissionof which Billy had been sentenced, a full and complete description ofBilly, a record of his long years of transgression, and, at last, themention of a five-hundred-dollar reward that the authorities had offeredfor information that would lead to his arrest. 

When Billy had concluded the reading he refolded the paper and placed itin a pocket of the coat hanging upon the foot of the bed. A momentlater Bridge entered the room. Billy caught himself looking often athis companion, and always there came to his mind the termination ofthe article he had found in Bridge's pocket--the mention of thefive-hundred-dollar reward. 

"Five hundred dollars, " thought Billy, "is a lot o' coin. I just wondernow, " and he let his eyes wander to his companion as though he mightread upon his face the purpose which lay in the man's heart. "He don'tlook it; but five hundred dollars is a lot o' coin--fer a bo, andwotinell did he have that article hid in his clothes fer? That's wot I'dlike to know. I guess it's up to me to blow. "

All the recently acquired content which had been Billy's since hehad come upon the poetic Bridge and the two had made their carefree, leisurely way along shaded country roadsides, or paused beside coolbrooklets that meandered lazily through sweet-smelling meadows, wasdissipated in the instant that he had realized the nature of the articlehis companion had been carrying and hiding from him. 

For days no thought of pursuit or capture had arisen to perplex him. Hehad seemed such a tiny thing out there amidst the vastness of rollinghills, of woods, and plain that there had been induced within him anunconscious assurance that no one could find him even though they mightseek for him. 

The idea of meeting a plain clothes man from detective headquartersaround the next bend of a peaceful Missouri road was so preposterousand incongruous that Billy had found it impossible to give the matterserious thought. 

He never before had been in the country districts of his native land. Tohim the United States was all like Chicago or New York or Milwaukee, thethree cities with which he was most familiar. His experience of unurbanlocalities had been gained amidst the primeval jungles of far-away Yoka. There had been no detective sergeants there--unquestionably there couldbe none here. Detective sergeants were indigenous to the soil thatgrew corner saloons and poolrooms, and to none other--as well expectto discover one of Oda Yorimoto's samurai hiding behind a fire plugon Michigan Boulevard, as to look for one of those others along afarm-bordered road. 

But here in Kansas City, amidst the noises and odors that meant a largecity, it was different. Here the next man he met might be looking forhim, or if not then the very first policeman they encountered couldarrest him upon a word from Bridge--and Bridge would get five hundreddollars. Just then Bridge burst forth into poetry:

 In a flannel shirt from earth's clean dirt, Here, pal, is my calloused hand! Oh, I love each day as a rover may, Nor seek to understand. To enjoy is good enough for me; The gypsy of God am I. Then here's a hail to--

"Say, " he interrupted himself; "what's the matter with going out now andwrapping ourselves around that swell feed you were speaking of?"

Billy rose. It didn't seem possible that Bridge could be going todouble-cross him. 

 In a flannel shirt from earth's clean dirt, Here, pal, is my calloused hand!

Billy repeated the lines half aloud. They renewed his confidence inBridge, somehow. 

"Like them?" asked the latter. 

"Yes, " said Billy; "s'more of Knibbs?"

"No, Service. Come on, let's go and dine. How about the Midland?" and hegrinned at his little joke as he led the way toward the street. 

It was late afternoon. The sun already had set; but it still was toolight for lamps. Bridge led the way toward a certain eating-place ofwhich he knew where a man might dine well and from a clean platter fortwo bits. Billy had been keeping his eyes open for detectives. Theyhad passed no uniformed police--that would be the crucial test, thoughthe--unless Bridge intended tipping off headquarters on the quiet andhaving the pinch made at night after Billy had gone to bed. 

As they reached the little restaurant, which was in a basement, Bridgemotioned Billy down ahead of him. Just for an instant he, himself, paused at the head of the stairs and looked about. As he did so a manstepped from the shadow of a doorway upon the opposite side of thestreet. 

If Bridge saw him he apparently gave no sign, for he turned slowly andwith deliberate steps followed Billy down into the eating-place. 

CHAPTER IV. ON THE TRAIL. AS THEY entered the place Billy, who wasahead, sought a table; but as he was about to hang up his cap and seathimself Bridge touched his elbow. 

"Let's go to the washroom and clean up a bit, " he said, in a voice thatmight be heard by those nearest. 

"Why, we just washed before we left our room, " expostulated Billy. 

"Shut up and follow me, " Bridge whispered into his ear. 

Immediately Billy was all suspicion. His hand flew to the pocket inwhich the gun of the deputy sheriff still rested. They would nevertake him alive, of that Billy was positive. He wouldn't go back to lifeimprisonment, not after he had tasted the sweet freedom of the widespaces--such a freedom as the trammeled city cannot offer. 

Bridge saw the movement. 

"Cut it, " he whispered, "and follow me, as I tell you. I just saw aChicago dick across the street. He may not have seen you, but it lookedalmighty like it. He'll be down here in about two seconds now. Comeon--we'll beat it through the rear--I know the way. "

Billy Byrne heaved a great sigh of relief. Suddenly he was almostreconciled to the thought of capture, for in the instant he had realizedthat it had not been so much his freedom that he had dreaded to lose ashis faith in the companion in whom he had believed. 

Without sign of haste the two walked the length of the room anddisappeared through the doorway leading into the washroom. Before themwas a window opening upon a squalid back yard. The building stood upona hillside, so that while the entrance to the eating-place was below thelevel of the street in front, its rear was flush with the ground. 

Bridge motioned Billy to climb through the window while he shot the boltupon the inside of the door leading back into the restaurant. A momentlater he followed the fugitive, and then took the lead. 

Down narrow, dirty alleys, and through litter-piled back yards he madehis way, while Billy followed at his heels. Dusk was gathering, andbefore they had gone far darkness came. 

They neither paused nor spoke until they had left the business portionof the city behind and were well out of the zone of bright lights. Bridge was the first to break the silence. 

"I suppose you wonder how I knew, " he said. 

"No, " replied Billy. "I seen that clipping you got in your pocket--itfell out on the floor when you took your coat off in the room thisafternoon to go and wash. "

"Oh, " said Bridge, "I see. Well, as far as I'm concerned that's the endof it--we won't mention it again, old man. I don't need to tell you thatI'm for you. "

"No, not after tonight, " Billy assured him. 

They went on again for some little time without speaking, then Billysaid:

"I got two things to tell you. The first is that after I seen thatnewspaper article in your clothes I thought you was figurin' ondouble-crossin' me an' claimin' the five hun. I ought to of knownbetter. The other is that I didn't kill Schneider. I wasn't near hisplace that night--an' that's straight. "

"I'm glad you told me both, " said Bridge. "I think we'll understand eachother better after this--we're each runnin' away from something. We'llrun together, eh?" and he extended his hand. "In flannel shirt fromearth's clean dirt, here, pal, is my calloused hand!" he quoted, laughing. 

Billy took the other's hand. He noticed that Bridge hadn't said what HEwas running away from. Billy wondered; but asked no questions. 

South they went after they had left the city behind, out into the sweetand silent darkness of the country. During the night they crossed theline into Kansas, and morning found them in a beautiful, hilly countryto which all thoughts of cities, crime, and police seemed so utterlyforeign that Billy could scarce believe that only a few hours before aChicago detective had been less than a hundred feet from him. 

The new sun burst upon them as they topped a grassy hill. Thedew-bespangled blades scintillated beneath the gorgeous rays which wouldpresently sweep them away again into the nothingness from which they hadsprung. 

Bridge halted and stretched himself. He threw his head back and let thewarm sun beat down upon his bronzed face. 

 There's sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, I'm fellow to the trees. My golden youth I'm squandering, Sun-libertine am I, A-wandering, a-wandering, Until the day I die. 

And then he stood for minutes drinking in deep breaths of the pure, sweet air of the new day. Beside him, a head taller, savagely strong, stood Billy Byrne, his broad shoulders squared, his great chestexpanding as he inhaled. 

"It's great, ain't it?" he said, at last. "I never knew the country waslike this, an' I don't know that I ever would have known it if it hadn'tbeen for those poet guys you're always spouting. 

"I always had an idea they was sissy fellows, " he went on; "but a guycan't be a sissy an' think the thoughts they musta thought to writestuff that sends the blood chasin' through a feller like he'd had adrink on an empty stomach. 

"I used to think everybody was a sissy who wasn't a tough guy. I was atough guy all right, an' I was mighty proud of it. I ain't any more an'haven't been for a long time; but before I took a tumble to myself I'dhave hated you, Bridge. I'd a-hated your fine talk, an' your poetry, an'the thing about you that makes you hate to touch a guy for a hand-out. 

"I'd a-hated myself if I'd thought that I could ever talk mushy like Iam now. Gee, Bridge, but I was the limit! A girl--a nice girl--calledme a mucker once, an' a coward. I was both; but I had the reputation ofbein' the toughest guy on the West Side, an' I thought I was a man. Inearly poked her face for her--think of it, Bridge! I nearly did; butsomething stopped me--something held my hand from it, an' lately I'veliked to think that maybe what stopped me was something in me that hadalways been there--something decent that was really a part of me. I hateto think that I was such a beast at heart as I acted like all my lifeup to that minute. I began to change then. It was mighty slow, an' I'mstill a roughneck; but I'm gettin' on. She helped me most, of course, an' now you're helpin' me a lot, too--you an' your poetry stuff. If somedick don't get me I may get to be a human bein' before I die. "

Bridge laughed. 

"It IS odd, " he said, "how our viewpoints change with changedenvironment and the passing of the years. Time was, Billy, when I'd havehated you as much as you would have hated me. I don't know that I shouldhave said hate, for that is not exactly the word. It was more contemptthat I felt for men whom I considered as not belonging upon thatintellectual or social plane to which I considered I had been born. 

"I thought of people who moved outside my limited sphere as 'the greatunwashed. ' I pitied them, and I honestly believe now that in the bottomof my heart I considered them of different clay than I, and with souls, if they possessed such things, about on a par with the souls of sheepand cows. 

"I couldn't have seen the man in you, Billy, then, any more than youcould have seen the man in me. I have learned much since then, thoughI still stick to a part of my original articles of faith--I do believethat all men are not equal; and I know that there are a great many morewith whom I would not pal than there are those with whom I would. 

"Because one man speaks better English than another, or has readmore and remembers it, only makes him a better man in that particularrespect. I think none the less of you because you can't quote Browningor Shakespeare--the thing that counts is that you can appreciate, as Ido, Service and Kipling and Knibbs. 

"Now maybe we are both wrong--maybe Knibbs and Kipling and Servicedidn't write poetry, and some people will say as much; but whatever itis it gets you and me in the same way, and so in this respect we areequals. Which being the case let's see if we can't rustle some grub, andthen find a nice soft spot whereon to pound our respective ears. "

Billy, deciding that he was too sleepy to work for food, invested halfof the capital that was to have furnished the swell feed the nightbefore in what two bits would purchase from a generous housewife on anear-by farm, and then, stretching themselves beneath the shade ofa tree sufficiently far from the road that they might not attractunnecessary observation, they slept until after noon. 

But their precaution failed to serve their purpose entirely. Alittle before noon two filthy, bearded knights of the road clamberedlaboriously over the fence and headed directly for the very tree underwhich Billy and Bridge lay sleeping. In the minds of the two was thesame thought that had induced Billy Byrne and the poetic Bridge to seekthis same secluded spot. 

There was in the stiff shuffle of the men something rather familiar. We have seen them before--just for a few minutes it is true; but undercircumstances that impressed some of their characteristics upon us. Thevery last we saw of them they were shuffling away in the darkness alonga railroad track, after promising that eventually they would wreak direvengeance upon Billy, who had just trounced them. 

Now as they came unexpectedly upon the two sleepers they did notimmediately recognize in them the objects of their recent hate. Theyjust stood looking stupidly down on them, wondering in what way theymight turn their discovery to their own advantage. 

Nothing in the raiment either of Billy or Bridge indicated that here wasany particularly rich field for loot, and, too, the athletic figureof Byrne would rather have discouraged any attempt to roll him withoutfirst handing him the "k. O. ", as the two would have naively put it. 

But as they gazed down upon the features of the sleepers the eyes of oneof the tramps narrowed to two ugly slits while those of his companionwent wide in incredulity and surprise. 

"Do youse know dem guys?" asked the first, and without waiting for areply he went on: "Dem's de guys dat beat us up back dere de udder sideo' K. C. Do youse get 'em?"

"Sure?" asked the other. 

"Sure, I'd know dem in a t'ous'n'. Le's hand 'em a couple an' beat it, "and he stooped to pick up a large stone that lay near at hand. 

"Cut it!" whispered the second tramp. "Youse don't know dem guys at all. Dey may be de guys dat beats us up; but dat big stiff dere is more dandat. He's wanted in Chi, an' dere's half a t'ou on 'im. "

"Who put youse jerry to all dat?" inquired the first tramp, skeptically. 

"I was in de still wit 'im--he croaked some guy. He's a lifer. On de wayto de pen he pushes dis dick off'n de rattler an' makes his get-away. Dat peter-boy we meets at Quincy slips me an earful about him. Here'sw'ere we draws down de five hundred if we're cagey. "

"Whaddaya mean, cagey?"

"Why we leaves 'em alone an' goes to de nex' farm an' calls up K. C. An'tips off de dicks, see?"

"Youse don't tink we'll get any o' dat five hun, do youse, wit de dicksin on it?"

The other scratched his head. 

"No, " he said, rather dubiously, after a moment's deep thought; "deydon't nobody get nothin' dat de dicks see first; but we'll get even withdese blokes, annyway. "

"Maybe dey'll pass us a couple bucks, " said the other hopefully. "Dey'dorter do dat much. "

Detective Sergeant Flannagan of Headquarters, Chicago, slouched in achair in the private office of the chief of detectives of Kansas City, Missouri. Sergeant Flannagan was sore. He would have said as muchhimself. He had been sent west to identify a suspect whom the KansasCity authorities had arrested; but had been unable to do so, and hadbeen preparing to return to his home city when the brilliant aureola ofan unusual piece of excellent fortune had shone upon him for amoment, and then faded away through the grimy entrance of a basementeating-place. 

He had been walking along the street the previous evening thinkingof nothing in particular; but with eyes and ears alert as becomes asuccessful police officer, when he had espied two men approaching uponthe opposite sidewalk. 

There was something familiar in the swing of the giant frame of one ofthe men. So, true to years of training, Sergeant Flannagan melted intothe shadows of a store entrance and waited until the two should havecome closer. 

They were directly opposite him when the truth flashed upon him--the bigfellow was Billy Byrne, and there was a five-hundred-dollar reward outfor him. 

And then the two turned and disappeared down the stairway that led tothe underground restaurant. Sergeant Flannagan saw Byrne's companionturn and look back just as Flannagan stepped from the doorway to crossthe street after them. 

That was the last Sergeant Flannagan had seen either of Billy Byrne orhis companion. The trail had ceased at the open window of the washroomat the rear of the restaurant, and search as he would be had been unableto pick it up again. 

No one in Kansas City had seen two men that night answering thedescriptions Flannagan had been able to give--at least no one whomFlannagan could unearth. 

Finally he had been forced to take the Kansas City chief into hisconfidence, and already a dozen men were scouring such sections ofKansas City in which it seemed most likely an escaped murderer wouldchoose to hide. 

Flannagan had been out himself for a while; but now he was in to learnwhat progress, if any, had been made. He had just learned that threesuspects had been arrested and was waiting to have them paraded beforehim. 

When the door swung in and the three were escorted into his presenceSergeant Flannagan gave a snort of disgust, indicative probably notonly of despair; but in a manner registering his private opinion of themental horse power and efficiency of the Kansas City sleuths, for ofthe three one was a pasty-faced, chestless youth, even then under theinfluence of cocaine, another was an old, bewhiskered hobo, while thethird was unquestionably a Chinaman. 

Even professional courtesy could scarce restrain Sergeant Flannagan'sdesire toward bitter sarcasm, and he was upon the point of launchingforth into a vitriolic arraignment of everything west of Chicago up toand including, specifically, the Kansas City detective bureau, when thetelephone bell at the chief's desk interrupted him. He had wanted thechief to hear just what he thought, so he waited. 

The chief listened for a few minutes, asked several questions andthen, placing a fat hand over the transmitter, he wheeled about towardFlannagan. 

"Well, " he said, "I guess I got something for you at last. There's abo on the wire that says he's just seen your man down near Shawnee. Hewants to know if you'll split the reward with him. "

Flannagan yawned and stretched. 

"I suppose, " he said, ironically, "that if I go down there I'llfind he's corraled a nigger, " and he looked sorrowfully at the threespecimens before him. 

"I dunno, " said the chief. "This guy says he knows Byrne well, an' thathe's got it in for him. Shall I tell him you'll be down--and split thereward?"

"Tell him I'll be down and that I'll treat him right, " repliedFlannagan, and after the chief had transmitted the message, and hung upthe receiver: "Where is this here Shawnee, anyhow?"

"I'll send a couple of men along with you. It isn't far across the line, an' there won't be no trouble in getting back without nobody knowin'anything about it--if you get him. "

"All right, " said Flannagan, his visions of five hundred alreadydwindled to a possible one. 

It was but a little past one o'clock that a touring car rolled south outof Kansas City with Detective Sergeant Flannagan in the front seat withthe driver and two burly representatives of Missouri law in the back. 

CHAPTER V. ONE TURN DESERVES ANOTHER

WHEN the two tramps approached the farmhouse at which Billy hadpurchased food a few hours before the farmer's wife called the dog thatwas asleep in the summer kitchen and took a shotgun down from its hookbeside the door. 

From long experience the lady was a reader of character--of hobocharacter at least--and she saw nothing in the appearance of eitherof these two that inspired even a modicum of confidence. Now the youngfellow who had been there earlier in the day and who, wonder of wonders, had actually paid for the food she gave him, had been of a differentstamp. His clothing had proclaimed him a tramp, but, thanks to the razorBridge always carried, he was clean shaven. His year of total abstinencehad given him clear eyes and a healthy skin. There was a freshness andvigor in his appearance and carriage that inspired confidence ratherthan suspicion. 

She had not mistrusted him; but these others she did mistrust. When theyasked to use the telephone she refused and ordered them away, thinkingit but an excuse to enter the house; but they argued the matter, explaining that they had discovered an escaped murderer hidingnear--by--in fact in her own meadow--and that they wished only to callup the Kansas City police. 

Finally she yielded, but kept the dog by her side and the shotgun in herhand while the two entered the room and crossed to the telephone uponthe opposite side. 

From the conversation which she overheard the woman concluded that, after all, she had been mistaken, not only about these two, but aboutthe young man who had come earlier in the day and purchased food fromher, for the description the tramp gave of the fugitive tallied exactlywith that of the young man. 

It seemed incredible that so honest looking a man could be a murderer. The good woman was shocked, and not a little unstrung by the thoughtthat she had been in the house alone when he had come and that if he hadwished to he could easily have murdered her. 

"I hope they get him, " she said, when the tramp had concluded his talkwith Kansas City. "It's awful the carryings on they is nowadays. Why abody can't never tell who to trust, and I thought him such a nice youngman. And he paid me for what he got, too. "

The dog, bored by the inaction, had wandered back into the summerkitchen and resumed his broken slumber. One of the tramps was leaningagainst the wall talking with the farmer woman. The other was busilyengaged in scratching his right shin with what remained of the heel ofhis left shoe. He supported himself with one hand on a small table uponthe top of which was a family Bible. 

Quite unexpectedly he lost his balance, the table tipped, he was thrownstill farther over toward it, and all in the flash of an eye tramp, table, and family Bible crashed to the floor. 

With a little cry of alarm the woman rushed forward to gather up theHoly Book, in her haste forgetting the shotgun and leaving it behind herleaning against the arm of a chair. 

Almost simultaneously the two tramps saw the real cause of herperturbation. The large book had fallen upon its back, open; and asseveral of the leaves turned over before coming to rest their eyes wentwide at what was revealed between. 

United States currency in denominations of five, ten, and twenty-dollarbills lay snugly inserted between the leaves of the Bible. The tramp wholay on the floor, as yet too surprised to attempt to rise, rolled overand seized the book as a football player seizes the pigskin after afumble, covering it with his body, his arms, and sticking out his elbowsas a further protection to the invaluable thing. 

At the first cry of the woman the dog rose, growling, and bounded intothe room. The tramp leaning against the wall saw the brute coming--amongrel hound-dog, bristling and savage. 

The shotgun stood almost within the man's reach--a step and it was inhis hands. As though sensing the fellow's intentions the dog wheeledfrom the tramp upon the floor, toward whom he had leaped, and sprang forthe other ragged scoundrel. 

The muzzle of the gun met him halfway. There was a deafening roar. Thedog collapsed to the floor, his chest torn out. Now the woman began toscream for help; but in an instant both the tramps were upon her chokingher to silence. 

One of them ran to the summer kitchen, returning a moment later witha piece of clothesline, while the other sat astride the victim, hisfingers closed about her throat. Once he released his hold and shescreamed again. Presently she was secured and gagged. Then the twocommenced to rifle the Bible. 

Eleven hundred dollars in bills were hidden there, because the womanand her husband didn't believe in banks--the savings of a lifetime. Inagony, as she regained consciousness, she saw the last of their littlehoard transferred to the pockets of the tramps, and when they hadfinished they demanded to know where she kept the rest, loosening hergag that she might reply. 

She told them that that was all the money she had in the world, andbegged them not to take it. 

"Youse've got more coin dan dis, " growled one of the men, "an' youse hadbetter pass it over, or we'll find a way to make youse. "

But still she insisted that that was all. The tramp stepped into thekitchen. A wood fire was burning in the stove. A pair of pliers lay uponthe window sill. With these he lifted one of the hot stove-hole coversand returned to the parlor, grinning. 

"I guess she'll remember she's got more wen dis begins to woik, " hesaid. "Take off her shoes, Dink. "

The other growled an objection. 

"Yeh poor boob, " he said. "De dicks'll be here in a little while. We'dbetter be makin' our get-away wid w'at we got. "

"Gee!" exclaimed his companion. "I clean forgot all about de dicks, "and then after a moment's silence during which his evil face underwentvarious changes of expression from fear to final relief, he turned anugly, crooked grimace upon his companion. 

"We got to croak her, " he said. "Dey ain't no udder way. If dey findsher alive she'll blab sure, an' dey won't be no trouble 'bout gettin' usor identifyin' us neither. "

The other shrugged. 

"Le's beat it, " he whined. "We can't more'n do time fer dis job if westop now; but de udder'll mean--" and he made a suggestive circle with agrimy finger close to his neck. 

"No it won't nothin' of de kind, " urged his companion. "I got it alldoped out. We got lots o' time before de dicks are due. We'll croak deskirt, an' den we'll beat it up de road AN' MEET DE DICKS--see?"

The other was aghast. 

"Wen did youse go nuts?" he asked. 

"I ain't gone nuts. Wait 'til I gets t'rough. We meets de dicks, innocent-like; but first we caches de dough in de woods. We tells 'em wehurried right on to lead 'em to dis Byrne guy, an' wen we gets back hereto de farmhouse an' finds wot's happened here we'll be as flabbergastedas dey be. "

"Oh, nuts!" exclaimed the other disgustedly. "Youse don't tink yousecan put dat over on any wise guy from Chi, do youse? Who will dey tinkcroaked de old woman an' de ki-yi? Will dey tink dey kilt deyreselves?"

"Dey'll tink Byrne an' his pardner croaked 'em, you simp, " repliedCrumb. 

Dink scratched his head, and as the possibilities of the scheme filteredinto his dull brain a broad grin bared his yellow teeth. 

"You're dere, pal, " he exclaimed, real admiration in his tone. "Butwho's goin' to do it?"

"I'll do it, " said Crumb. "Dere ain't no chanct of gettin' in bad forit, so I jest as soon do the job. Get me a knife, or an ax from dekitchen--de gat makes too much noise. "

Something awoke Billy Byrne with a start. Faintly, in the back of hisconsciousness, the dim suggestion of a loud noise still reverberated. Hesat up and looked about him. 

"I wonder what that was?" he mused. "It sounded like the report of agun. "

Bridge awoke about the same time, and turned lazily over, raisinghimself upon an elbow. He grinned at Billy. 

"Good morning, " he said, and then:

Says I, "Then let's be on the float. You certainly have got my goat;You make me hungry in my throat for seeing things that's new. Out theresomewhere we'll ride the range a-looking for the new and strange; Myfeet are tired and need a change. Come on! It's up to you!"

"Come on, then, " agreed Billy, coming to his feet. 

As he rose there came, faintly, but distinct, the unmistakable screamof a frightened woman. From the direction of the farmhouse it came--fromthe farmhouse at which Billy had purchased their breakfast. 

Without waiting for a repetition of the cry Billy wheeled and broke intoa rapid run in the direction of the little cluster of buildings. Bridgeleaped to his feet and followed him, dropping behind though, for hehad not had the road work that Billy recently had been through in histraining for the battle in which he had defeated the "white hope" thattime in New York when Professor Cassidy had wagered his entire pile uponhim, nor in vain. 

Dink searched about the summer kitchen for an ax or hatchet; but failingto find either rummaged through a table drawer until he came upon alarge carving knife. This would do the job nicely. He thumbed the edgeas he carried it back into the parlor to Crumb. 

The poor woman, lying upon the floor, was quite conscious. Her eyes werewide and rolling in horror. She struggled with her bonds, and tried toforce the gag from her mouth with her tongue; but her every effort wasuseless. She had heard every word that had passed between the two men. She knew that they would carry out the plan they had formulated and thatthere was no chance that they would be interrupted in their gruesomework, for her husband had driven over to a farm beyond Holliday, leavingbefore sunrise, and there was little prospect that he would returnbefore milking time in the evening. The detectives from Kansas Citycould not possibly reach the farm until far too late to save her. 

She saw Dink return from the summer kitchen with the long knife. Sherecalled the day she had bought that knife in town, and the various usesto which she had put it. That very morning she had sliced some baconwith it. How distinctly such little things recurred to her at thisfrightful moment. And now the hideous creature standing beside her wasgoing to use it to cut her throat. 

She saw Crumb take the knife and feel of the blade, running his thumbalong it. She saw him stoop, his eyes turned down upon hers. He graspedher chin and forced it upward and back, the better to expose her throat. 

Oh, why could she not faint? Why must she suffer all these hideouspreliminaries? Why could she not even close her eyes?

Crumb raised the knife and held the blade close above her bared neck. Ashudder ran through her, and then the door crashed open and a man spranginto the room. It was Billy Byrne. Through the window he had seen whatwas passing in the interior. 

His hand fell upon Crumb's collar and jerked him backward from his prey. Dink seized the shotgun and turned it upon the intruder; but he was tooclose. Billy grasped the barrel of the weapon and threw the muzzle uptoward the ceiling as the tramp pulled the trigger. Then he wrenched itfrom the man's hands, swung it once above his head and crashed the stockdown upon Dink's skull. 

Dink went down and out for the count--for several counts, in fact. Crumbstumbled to his feet and made a break for the door. In the doorway heran full into Bridge, winded, but ready. The latter realizing that thematted one was attempting to escape, seized a handful of his tangledbeard, and, as he had done upon another occasion, held the tramp's headin rigid position while he planted a series of blows in the fellow'sface--blows that left Crumb as completely out of battle as was hismildewed comrade. 

"Watch 'em, " said Billy, handing Bridge the shotgun. Then he turned hisattention to the woman. With the carving knife that was to have endedher life he cut her bonds. Removing the gag from her mouth he liftedher in his strong arms and carried her to the little horsehair sofa thatstood in one corner of the parlor, laying her upon it very gently. 

He was thinking of "Maw" Watson. This woman resembled her just alittle--particularly in her comfortable, motherly expansiveness, and shehad had a kind word and a cheery good-bye for him that morning as he haddeparted. 

The woman lay upon the sofa, breathing hard, and moaning just a little. The shock had been almost too much even for her stolid nerves. Presentlyshe turned her eyes toward Billy. 

"You are a good boy, " she said, "and you come just in the nick o' time. They got all my money. It's in their clothes, " and then a look of terroroverspread her face. For the moment she had forgotten what she had heardabout this man--that he was an escaped convict--a convicted murderer. Was she any better off now that she had let him know about the moneythan she was with the others after they discovered it?

At her words Bridge kneeled and searched the two tramps. He counted thebills as he removed them from their pockets. 

"Eleven hundred?" he asked, and handed the money to Billy. 

"Eleven hundred, yes, " breathed the woman, faintly, her eyeshorror-filled and fearful as she gazed upon Billy's face. She didn'tcare for the money any more--they could have it all if they would onlylet her live. 

Billy turned toward her and held the rumpled green mass out. 

"Here, " he said; "but that's an awful lot o' coin for a woman to haveabout de house--an' her all alone. You ought not to a-done it. "

She took the money in trembling fingers. It seemed incredible that theman was returning it to her. 

"But I knew it, " she said finally. 

"Knew what?" asked Billy. 

"I knew you was a good boy. They said you was a murderer. "

Billy's brows contracted, and an expression of pain crossed his face. 

"How did they come to say that?" he asked. 

"I heard them telephonin' to Kansas City to the police, " she replied, and then she sat bolt upright. "The detectives are on their way herenow, " she almost screamed, "and even if you ARE a murderer I don't care. I won't stand by and see 'em get you after what you have done for me. Idon't believe you're a murderer anyhow. You're a good boy. My boy wouldbe about as old and as big as you by now--if he lives. He ran away along time ago--maybe you've met him. His name's Eddie--Eddie Shorter. Iain't heard from him fer years. 

"No, " she went on, "I don't believe what they said--you got too gooda face; but if you are a murderer you get out now before they come an'I'll send 'em on a wild-goose chase in the wrong direction. "

"But these, " said Billy. "We can't leave these here. "

"Tie 'em up and give me the shotgun, " she said. "I'll bet they don'tcome any more funny business on me. " She had regained both her composureand her nerve by this time. 

Together Billy and Bridge trussed up the two tramps. An elephantcouldn't have forced the bonds they placed upon them. Then they carriedthem down cellar and when they had come up again Mrs. Shorter barred thecellar door. 

"I reckon they won't get out of there very fast, " she said. "And now youtwo boys run along. Got any money?" and without waiting for a reply shecounted twenty-five dollars from the roll she had tucked in the front ofher waist and handed them to Billy. 

"Nothin' doin', " said he; "but t'anks just the same. "

"You got to take it, " she insisted. "Let me make believe I'm givin' itto my boy, Eddie--please, " and the tears that came to her eyes provedfar more effective than her generous words. 

"Aw, all right, " said Billy. "I'll take it an' pass it along to Eddie ifI ever meet him, eh?"

"Now please hurry, " she urged. "I don't want you to be caught--even ifyou are a murderer. I wish you weren't though. "

"I'm not, " said Billy; "but de law says I am an' what de law says, goes. "

He turned toward the doorway with Bridge, calling a goodbye to thewoman, but as he stepped out upon the veranda the dust of a fast-movingautomobile appeared about a bend in the road a half-mile from the house. 

"Too late, " he said, turning to Bridge. "Here they come!"

The woman brushed by them and peered up the road. 

"Yes, " she said, "it must be them. Lordy! What'll we do?"

"I'll duck out the back way, that's what I'll do, " said Billy. 

"It wouldn't do a mite of good, " said Mrs. Shorter, with a shake ofher head. "They'll telephone every farmer within twenty mile of here inevery direction, an' they'll get you sure. Wait! I got a scheme. Comewith me, " and she turned and bustled through the little parlor, out of adoorway into something that was half hall and half storeroom. There wasa flight of stairs leading to the upper story, and she waddled up themas fast as her legs would carry her, motioning the two men to followher. 

In a rear room was a trapdoor in the ceiling. 

"Drag that commode under this, " she told them. "Then climb into theattic, and close the trapdoor. They won't never find you there. "

Billy pulled the ancient article of furniture beneath the opening, and in another moment the two men were in the stuffy atmosphere of theunventilated loft. Beneath them they heard Mrs. Shorter draggingthe commode back to its accustomed place, and then the sound of herfootsteps descending the stair. 

Presently there came to them the rattling of a motor without, followedby the voices of men in the house. For an hour, half asphyxiated by thecloseness of the attic, they waited, and then again they heard the soundof the running engine, diminishing as the machine drew away. 

Shortly after, Mrs. Shorter's voice rose to them from below:

"You ken come down now, " she said, "they've gone. "

When they had descended she led them to the kitchen. 

"I got a bite to eat ready for you while they was here, " she explained. "When you've done you ken hide in the barn 'til dark, an' after thatI'll have my ol' man take you 'cross to Dodson, that's a junction, an'you'd aughter be able to git away easy enough from there. I told 'em youstarted for Olathe--there's where they've gone with the two tramps. 

"My, but I did have a time of it! I ain't much good at story-tellin' butI reckon I told more stories this arternoon than I ever tole before inall my life. I told 'em that they was two of you, an' that the biggestone hed red hair, an' the little one was all pock-marked. Then they saidyou prob'ly wasn't the man at all, an' my! how they did swear at themtwo tramps fer gettin' 'em way out here on a wild-goose chase; butthey're goin' to look fer you jes' the same in Olathe, only they won'tfind you there, " and she laughed, a bit nervously though. 

It was dusk when Mr. Shorter returned from Holliday, but after he hadheard his wife's story he said that he'd drive "them two byes" all theway to Mexico, if there wasn't any better plan. 

"Dodson's far enough, " Bridge assured him, and late that night thegrateful farmer set them down at their destination. 

An hour later they were speeding south on the Missouri Pacific. 

Bridge lay back, luxuriously, on the red plush of the smoker seat. 

"Some class to us, eh, bo?" asked Billy. 

Bridge stretched. 

 The tide-hounds race far up the shore--the hunt is on! The breakers roar! Her spars are tipped with gold, and o'er her deck the spray is flung, The buoys that frolic in the bay, they nod the way, they nod the way! The hunt is up! I am the prey! The hunter's bow is strung!

CHAPTER VI. "BABY BANDITS"

IT WAS twenty-four hours before Detective Sergeant Flannagan awoke tothe fact that something had been put over on him, and that a Kansasfarmer's wife had done the putting. 

He managed to piece it out finally from the narratives of the twotramps, and when he had returned to the Shorter home and listened to thecontradictory and whole-souled improvisations of Shorter pere and merehe was convinced. 

Whereupon he immediately telegraphed Chicago headquarters and obtainedthe necessary authority to proceed upon the trail of the fugitive, Byrne. 

And so it was that Sergeant Flannagan landed in El Paso a few dayslater, drawn thither by various pieces of intelligence he had gathereden route, though with much delay and consequent vexation. 

Even after he had quitted the train he was none too sure that he wasupon the right trail though he at once repaired to a telegraph officeand wired his chief that he was hot on the trail of the fugitive. 

As a matter of fact he was much hotter than he imagined, for Billy andBridge were that very minute not two squares from him, debating as tothe future and the best manner of meeting it before it arrived. 

"I think, " said Billy, "that I'll duck across the border. I won't neverbe safe in little old U. S. , an' with things hoppin' in Mexico the waythey have been for the last few years I orter be able to lose myselfpretty well. 

"Now you're all right, ol' top. You don't have to duck nothin' for youain't did nothin'. I don't know what you're runnin' away from; but Iknow it ain't nothin' the police is worryin' about--I can tell that bythe way you act--so I guess we'll split here. You'd be a boob to crossif you don't have to, fer if Villa don't get you the Carranzistas will, unless the Zapatistas nab you first. 

"Comin' or goin' some greasy-mugged highbinder's bound to croak you ifyou cross, from what little I've heard since we landed in El Paso. 

"We'll feed up together tonight, fer the last time. Then I'll pull myfreight. " He was silent for a while, and then: "I hate to do it, bo, feryou're the whitest guy I ever struck, " which was a great deal for BillyByrne of Grand Avenue to say. 

Bridge finished rolling a brown paper cigarette before he spoke. 

"Your words are pure and unadulterated wisdom, my friend, " he said. "Thechances are scarcely even that two gringo hoboes would last the weekout afoot and broke in Viva Mexico; but it has been many years since Ifollowed the dictates of wisdom. Therefore I am going with you. "

Billy grinned. He could not conceal his pleasure. 

"You're past twenty-one, " he said, "an' dry behind the ears. Let's goan' eat. There is still some of that twenty-five left. "

Together they entered a saloon which Bridge remembered as permittinga very large consumption of free lunch upon the purchase of a singleschooner of beer. 

There were round tables scattered about the floor in front of the bar, and after purchasing their beer they carried it to one of these thatstood in a far corner of the room close to a rear door. 

Here Bridge sat on guard over the foaming open sesame to food whileBilly crossed to the free lunch counter and appropriated all that azealous attendant would permit him to carry off. 

When he returned to the table he took a chair with his back to the wallin conformity to a habit of long standing when, as now, it had stood himin good stead to be in a position to see the other fellow at least assoon as the other fellow saw him. The other fellow being more oftenthan not a large gentleman with a bit of shiny metal pinned to his leftsuspender strap. 

"That guy's a tight one, " said Billy, jerking his hand in the directionof the guardian of the free lunch. "I scoops up about a good, squaremeal for a canary bird, an' he makes me cough up half of it. Wants toknow if I t'ink I can go into the restaurant business on a fi'-centschooner of suds. "

Bridge laughed. 

"Well, you didn't do so badly at that, " he said. "I know places wherethey'd indict you for grand larceny if you took much more than you havehere. "

"Rotten beer, " commented Billy. 

"Always is rotten down here, " replied Bridge. "I sometimes think theyput moth balls in it so it won't spoil. "

Billy looked up and smiled. Then he raised his tall glass before him. 

"Here's to, " he started; but he got no further. His eyes travelingpast his companion fell upon the figure of a large man entering the lowdoorway. 

At the same instant the gentleman's eyes fell upon Billy. Recognitionlit those of each simultaneously. The big man started across the room ona run, straight toward Billy Byrne. 

The latter leaped to his feet. Bridge, guessing what had happened, rosetoo. 

"Flannagan!" he exclaimed. 

The detective was tugging at his revolver, which had stuck in his hippocket. Byrne reached for his own weapon. Bridge laid a hand on his arm. 

"Not that, Billy!" he cried. "There's a door behind you. Here, " and hepulled Billy backward toward the doorway in the wall behind them. 

Byrne still clung to his schooner of beer, which he had transferred tohis left hand as he sought to draw his gun. Flannagan was close to them. Bridge opened the door and strove to pull Billy through; but the latterhesitated just an instant, for he saw that it would be impossible toclose and bar the door, provided it had a bar, before Flannagan would beagainst it with his great shoulders. 

The policeman was still struggling to disentangle his revolver from thelining of his pocket. He was bellowing like a bull--yelling at Billythat he was under arrest. Men at the tables were on their feet. Those atthe bar had turned around as Flannagan started to run across the floor. Now some of them were moving in the direction of the detective andhis prey, but whether from curiosity or with sinister intentions it isdifficult to say. 

One thing, however, is certain--if all the love that was felt forpolicemen in general by the men in that room could have been combinedin a single individual it still scarcely would have constituted a grandpassion. 

Flannagan felt rather than saw that others were closing in on him, and then, fortunately for himself, he thought, he managed to draw hisweapon. It was just as Billy was fading through the doorway into theroom beyond. He saw the revolver gleam in the policeman's hand and thenit became evident why Billy had clung so tenaciously to his schoonerof beer. Left-handed and hurriedly he threw it; but even Flannagan musthave been constrained to admit that it was a good shot. It struck thedetective directly in the midst of his features, gave him a nasty cut onthe cheek as it broke and filled his eyes full of beer--and beer neverwas intended as an eye wash. 

Spluttering and cursing, Flannagan came to a sudden stop, and when hehad wiped the beer from his eyes he found that Billy Byrne had passedthrough the doorway and closed the door after him. 

The room in which Billy and Bridge found themselves was a small one inthe center of which was a large round table at which were gathereda half-dozen men at poker. Above the table swung a single arc lamp, casting a garish light upon the players beneath. 

Billy looked quickly about for another exit, only to find that besidesthe doorway through which he had entered there was but a single aperturein the four walls-a small window, heavily barred. The place was averitable trap. 

At their hurried entrance the men had ceased their play, and one or twohad risen in profane questioning and protest. Billy ignored them. He wasstanding with his shoulder against the door trying to secure it againstthe detective without; but there was neither bolt nor bar. 

Flannagan hurtling against the opposite side exerted his noblest effortsto force an entrance to the room; but Billy Byrne's great weight heldfirm as Gibraltar. His mind revolved various wild plans of escape; butnone bade fair to offer the slightest foothold to hope. 

The men at the table were clamoring for an explanation of theinterruption. Two of them were approaching Billy with the avowedintention of "turning him out, " when he turned his head suddenly towardthem. 

"Can de beef, you poor boobs, " he cried. "Dere's a bunch o' dicks outdere--de joint's been pinched. "

Instantly pandemonium ensued. Cards, chips, and money were swept asby magic from the board. A dozen dog-eared and filthy magazines andnewspapers were snatched from a hiding place beneath the table, and inthe fraction of a second the room was transformed from a gambling placeto an innocent reading-room. 

Billy grinned broadly. Flannagan had ceased his efforts to break downthe door, and was endeavoring to persuade Billy that he might as wellcome out quietly and submit to arrest. Byrne had drawn his revolveragain. Now he motioned to Bridge to come to his side. 

"Follow me, " he whispered. "Don't move 'til I move--then move sudden. "Then, turning to the door again, "You big stiff, " he cried, "youcouldn't take a crip to a hospital, let alone takin' Billy Byrne to thestill. Beat it, before I come out an' spread your beezer acrost yourmap. "

If Billy had desired to arouse the ire of Detective Sergeant Flannaganby this little speech he succeeded quite as well as he could have hoped. Flannagan commenced to growl and threaten, and presently again hurledhimself against the door. 

Instantly Byrne wheeled and fired a single shot into the arc lamp, theshattered carbon rattled to the table with fragments of the globe, and Byrne stepped quickly to one side. The door flew open and SergeantFlannagan dove headlong into the darkened room. A foot shot out frombehind the opened door, and Flannagan, striking it, sprawled upon hisface amidst the legs of the literary lights who held dog-eared magazinesrightside up or upside down, as they chanced to have picked them up. 

Simultaneously Billy Byrne and Bridge dodged through the open doorway, banged the door to behind them, and sped across the barroom toward thestreet. 

As Flannagan shot into their midst the men at the table leaped to theirfeet and bolted for the doorway; but the detective was up and after themso quickly that only two succeeded in getting out of the room. One ofthese generously slammed the door in the faces of his fellows, and therethey pulled and hauled at each other until Flannagan was among them. 

In the pitch darkness he could recognize no one; but to be on the safeside he hit out promiscuously until he had driven them all from thedoor, then he stood with his back toward it--the inmates of the room hisprisoners. 

Thus he remained for a moment threatening to shoot at the first soundof movement in the room, and then he opened the door again, and steppingjust outside ordered the prisoners to file out one at a time. 

As each man passed him Flannagan scrutinized his face, and it was notuntil they had all emerged and he had reentered the room with a lightthat he discovered that once again his quarry had eluded him. DetectiveSergeant Flannagan was peeved. 

The sun smote down upon a dusty road. A heat-haze lay upon the arid landthat stretched away upon either hand toward gray-brown hills. A littleadobe hut, backed by a few squalid outbuildings, stood out, a screaminghigh-light in its coat of whitewash, against a background that wasgarish with light. 

Two men plodded along the road. Their coats were off, the brims of theirtattered hats were pulled down over eyes closed to mere slits againstsun and dust. 

One of the men, glancing up at the distant hut, broke into verse:

 Yet then the sun was shining down, a-blazing on the little town, A mile or so 'way down the track a-dancing in the sun. But somehow, as I waited there, there came a shiver in the air, "The birds are flying south, " he said. "The winter has begun. "

His companion looked up at him who quoted. 

"There ain't no track, " he said, "an' that 'dobe shack don't look muchlike a town; but otherwise his Knibbs has got our number all right, allright. We are the birds a-flyin' south, and Flannagan was the shiverin the air. Flannagan is a reg'lar frost. Gee! but I betcha dat guy'ssore. "

"Why is it, Billy, " asked Bridge, after a moment's silence, "that uponoccasion you speak king's English after the manner of the boulevard, andagain after that of the back alley? Sometimes you say 'that' and 'dat'in the same sentence. Your conversational clashes are numerous. Surelysomething or someone has cramped your original style. "

"I was born and brought up on 'dat, '" explained Billy. "SHE taught methe other line of talk. Sometimes I forget. I had about twenty years ofthe other and only one of hers, and twenty to one is a long shot--moreapt to lose than win. "

"'She, ' I take it, is PENELOPE, " mused Bridge, half to himself. "Shemust have been a fine girl. "

"'Fine' isn't the right word, " Billy corrected him. "If a thing's finethere may be something finer, and then something else finest. She wasbetter than finest. She--she was--why, Bridge, I'd have to be a walkingdictionary to tell you what she was. "

Bridge made no reply, and the two trudged on toward the whitewashed hutin silence for several minutes. Then Bridge broke it:

 And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me With buds of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth. 

Billy sighed and shook his head. 

"There ain't no such luck for me, " he said. "She's married to anothergink now. "

They came at last to the hut, upon the shady side of which they found aMexican squatting puffing upon a cigarette, while upon the doorstep sata woman, evidently his wife, busily engaged in the preparation of somemanner of foodstuff contained in a large, shallow vessel. About themplayed a couple of half-naked children. A baby sprawled upon a blanketjust within the doorway. 

The man looked up, suspiciously, as the two approached. Bridge salutedhim in fairly understandable Spanish, asking for food, and telling theman that they had money with which to pay for a little--not much, just alittle. 

The Mexican slowly unfolded himself and arose, motioning the strangersto follow him into the interior of the hut. The woman, at a word fromher lord and master, followed them, and at his further dictation broughtthem frijoles and tortillas. 

The price he asked was nominal; but his eyes never left Bridge's handsas the latter brought forth the money and handed it over. He appearedjust a trifle disappointed when no more money than the stipulatedpurchase price was revealed to sight. 

"Where you going?" he asked. 

"We're looking for work, " explained Bridge. "We want to get jobs on oneof the American ranches or mines. "

"You better go back, " warned the Mexican. "I, myself, have nothingagainst the Americans, senor; but there are many of my countrymen whodo not like you. The Americans are all leaving. Some already have beenkilled by bandits. It is not safe to go farther. Pesita's men are allabout here. Even Mexicans are not safe from him. No one knows whetherhe is for Villa or Carranza. If he finds a Villa ranchero, then Pesitacries Viva Carranza! and his men kill and rob. If, on the other hand, aneighbor of the last victim hears of it in time, and later Pesita comesto him, he assures Pesita that he is for Carranza, whereupon Pesitacries Viva Villa! and falls upon the poor unfortunate, who is luckyif he escapes with his life. But Americans! Ah, Pesita asks them noquestions. He hates them all, and kills them all, whenever he can layhis hands upon them. He has sworn to rid Mexico of the gringos. "

"Wot's the Dago talkin' about?" asked Billy. 

Bridge gave his companion a brief synopsis of the Mexican'sconversation. 

"Only the gentleman is not an Italian, Billy, " he concluded. "He's aMexican. "

"Who said he was an Eyetalian?" demanded Byrne. 

As the two Americans and the Mexican conversed within the hut thereapproached across the dusty flat, from the direction of the nearerhills, a party of five horsemen. 

They rode rapidly, coming toward the hut from the side which had neitherdoor nor window, so that those within had no warning of their coming. They were swarthy, ragged ruffians, fully armed, and with an equipmentwhich suggested that they might be a part of a quasi-militaryorganization. 

Close behind the hut four of them dismounted while the fifth, remainingin his saddle, held the bridle reins of the horses of his companions. The latter crept stealthily around the outside of the building, towardthe door--their carbines ready in their hands. 

It was one of the little children who first discovered the presence ofthe newcomers. With a piercing scream she bolted into the interior andran to cling to her mother's skirts. 

Billy, Bridge, and the Mexican wheeled toward the doorway simultaneouslyto learn the cause of the girl's fright, and as they did so foundthemselves covered by four carbines in the hands of as many men. 

As his eyes fell upon the faces of the intruders the countenance ofthe Mexican fell, while his wife dropped to the floor and embraced hisknees, weeping. 

"Wotinell?" ejaculated Billy Byrne. "What's doin'?"

"We seem to have been made prisoners, " suggested Bridge; "but whether byVillistas or Carranzistas I do not know. "

Their host understood his words and turned toward the two Americans. 

"These are Pesita's men, " he said. 

"Yes, " spoke up one of the bandits, "we are Pesita's men, and Pesitawill be delighted, Miguel, to greet you, especially when he sees thesort of company you have been keeping. You know how much Pesita lovesthe gringos!"

"But this man does not even know us, " spoke up Bridge. "We stopped hereto get a meal. He never saw us before. We are on our way to the El OroboRancho in search of work. We have no money and have broken no laws. Letus go our way in peace. You can gain nothing by detaining us, and as forMiguel here--that is what you called him, I believe--I think from whathe said to us that he loves a gringo about as much as your revered chiefseems to. "

Miguel looked his appreciation of Bridge's defense of him; but it wasevident that he did not expect it to bear fruit. Nor did it. The brigandspokesman only grinned sardonically. 

"You may tell all this to Pesita himself, senor, " he said. "Nowcome--get a move on--beat it!" The fellow had once worked in El Paso andtook great pride in his "higher English" education. 

As he started to herd them from the hut Billy demurred. He turned towardBridge. 

"Most of this talk gets by me, " he said. "I ain't jerry to all the Dagojabber yet, though I've copped off a little of it in the past two weeks. Put me wise to the gink's lay. "

"Elementary, Watson, elementary, " replied Bridge. "We are captured bybandits, and they are going to take us to their delightful chief whowill doubtless have us shot at sunrise. "

"Bandits?" snapped Billy, with a sneer. "Youse don't call dese littlerunts bandits?"

"Baby bandits, Billy, baby bandits, " replied Bridge. 

"An' you're goin' to stan' fer lettin' 'em pull off this rough stuffwithout handin' 'em a come-back?" demanded Byrne. 

"We seem to be up against just that very thing, " said Bridge. "There arefour carbines quite ready for us. It would mean sudden death to resistnow. Later we may find an opportunity--I think we'd better act simpleand wait. " He spoke in a quick, low whisper, for the spokesman of thebrigands evidently understood a little English and was on the alert forany trickery. 

Billy shrugged, and when their captors again urged them forward hewent quietly; but the expression on his face might have perturbed theMexicans had they known Billy Byrne of Grand Avenue better--he wassmiling happily. 

Miguel had two ponies in his corral. These the brigands appropriated, placing Billy upon one and Miguel and Bridge upon the other. Billy'sgreat weight rendered it inadvisable to double him up with anotherrider. 

As they were mounting Billy leaned toward Bridge and whispered:

"I'll get these guys, pal--watch me, " he said. 

"I am with thee, William!--horse, foot, and artillery, " laughed Bridge. 

"Which reminds me, " said Billy, "that I have an ace-in-the-hole--theboobs never frisked me. "

"And I am reminded, " returned Bridge, as the horses started off to theyank of hackamore ropes in the hands of the brigands who were leadingthem, "of a touching little thing of Service's:

 Just think! Some night the stars will gleam Upon a cold gray stone, And trace a name with silver beam, And lo! 'twill be your own. "

"You're a cheerful guy, " was Billy's only comment. 

CHAPTER VII. IN PESITA'S CAMP

PESITA was a short, stocky man with a large, dark mustache. He attiredhimself after his own ideas of what should constitute the uniform of ageneral--ideas more or less influenced and modified by the chance andcaprice of fortune. 

At the moment that Billy, Bridge, and Miguel were dragged into hispresence his torso was enwrapped in a once resplendent coat covered withyards of gold braid. Upon his shoulders were brass epaulets such as areconnected only in one's mind with the ancient chorus ladies of the lightoperas of fifteen or twenty years ago. Upon his legs were some rusty andragged overalls. His feet were bare. 

He scowled ferociously at the prisoners while his lieutenant narratedthe thrilling facts of their capture--thrilling by embellishment. 

"You are Americanos?" he asked of Bridge and Billy. 

Both agreed that they were. Then Pesita turned toward Miguel. 

"Where is Villa?" he asked. 

"How should I know, my general?" parried Miguel. "Who am I--a poor manwith a tiny rancho--to know of the movements of the great ones of theearth? I did not even know where was the great General Pesita until nowI am brought into his gracious presence, to throw myself at his feetand implore that I be permitted to serve him in even the meanest ofcapacities. "

Pesita appeared not to hear what Miguel had said. He turned his shouldertoward the man, and addressed Billy in broken English. 

"You were on your way to El Orobo Rancho, eh? Are you acquainted there?"he asked. 

Billy replied that they were not--merely looking for employment upon anAmerican-owned ranch or in an American mine. 

"Why did you leave your own country?" asked Pesita. "What do you wanthere in Mexico?"

"Well, ol' top, " replied Billy, "you see de birds was flyin' south an'winter was in de air, an a fat-head dick from Chi was on me trail--so Iducks. "

"Ducks?" queried Pesita, mystified. "Ah, the ducks--they fly south, Isee. "

"Naw, you poor simp--I blows, " explained Billy. 

"Ah, yes, " agreed Pesita, not wishing to admit any ignorance of plainAmerican even before a despised gringo. "But the large-faced dick--whatmight that be? I have spend much time in the States, but I do not knowthat. "

"I said 'fat-head dick'--dat's a fly cop, " Billy elucidated. 

"It is he then that is the bird. " Pesita beamed at this evidence of hisown sagacity. "He fly. "

"Flannagan ain't no bird--Flannagan's a dub. "

Bridge came to the rescue. 

"My erudite friend means, " he explained, "that the police chased him outof the United States of America. "

Pesita raised his eyebrows. All was now clear to him. 

"But why did he not say so?" he asked. 

"He tried to, " said Bridge. "He did his best. "

"Quit yer kiddin', " admonished Billy. 

A bright fight suddenly burst upon Pesita. He turned upon Bridge. 

"Your friend is not then an American?" he asked. "I guessed it. Thatis why I could not understand him. He speaks the language of the gringoless well even than I. From what country is he?"

Billy Byrne would have asserted with some show of asperity that he wasnothing if not American; but Bridge was quick to see a possible loopholefor escape for his friend in Pesita's belief that Billy was no gringo, and warned the latter to silence by a quick motion of his head. 

"He's from 'Gran' Avenoo, '" he said. "It is not exactly in Germany; butthere are a great many Germans there. My friend is a native, so he don'tspeak German or English either--they have a language of their own in'Gran' Avenoo'. "

"I see, " said Pesita--"a German colony. I like the Germans--they furnishme with much ammunition and rifles. They are my very good friends. TakeMiguel and the gringo away"--this to the soldiers who had brought theprisoners to him--"I will speak further with this man from Granavenoo. "

When the others had passed out of hearing Pesita addressed Billy. 

"I am sorry, senor, " he said, "that you have been put to so muchinconvenience. My men could not know that you were not a gringo; but Ican make it all right. I will make it all right. You are a big man. Thegringos have chased you from their country as they chased me. I hatethem. You hate them. But enough of them. You have no business in Mexicoexcept to seek work. I give you work. You are big. You are strong. Youare like a bull. You stay with me, senor, and I make you captain. I needmen what can talk some English and look like gringo. You do fine. We make much money--you and I. We make it all time while we fight toliberate my poor Mexico. When Mexico liberate we fight some more toliberate her again. The Germans they give me much money to liberateMexico, and--there are other ways of getting much money when one isriding around through rich country with soldiers liberating his poor, bleeding country. Sabe?"

"Yep, I guess I savvy, " said Billy, "an' it listens all right to me'sfar's you've gone. My pal in on it?"

"Eh?"

"You make my frien' a captain, too?"

Pesita held up his hands and rolled his eyes in holy horror. Take agringo into his band? It was unthinkable. 

"He shot, " he cried. "I swear to kill all gringo. I become savior of mycountry. I rid her of all Americanos. "

"Nix on the captain stuff fer me, then, " said Billy, firmly. "That guy'sa right one. If any big stiff thinks he can croak little ol' Bridgewhile Billy Byrne's aroun' he's got anudder t'ink comin'. Why, me an'him's just like brudders. "

"You like this gringo?" asked Pesita. 

"You bet, " cried Billy. 

Pesita thought for several minutes. In his mind was a scheme whichrequired the help of just such an individual as this stranger--someonewho was utterly unknown in the surrounding country and whose presence ina town could not by any stretch of the imagination be connected in anyway with the bandit, Pesita. 

"I tell you, " he said. "I let your friend go. I send him under safeescort to El Orobo Rancho. Maybe he help us there after a while. If youstay I let him go. Otherwise I shoot you both with Miguel. "

"Wot you got it in for Mig fer?" asked Billy. "He's a harmless sort o'guy. "

"He Villista. Villista with gringos run Mexico--gringos and the church. Just like Huerta would have done it if they'd given him a chance, onlyHuerta more for church than for gringos. "

"Aw, let the poor boob go, " urged Billy, "an' I'll come along wit you. Why he's got a wife an' kids--you wouldn't want to leave them without noone to look after them in this God-forsaken country!"

Pesita grinned indulgently. 

"Very well, Senor Captain, " he said, bowing low. "I let Miguel and yourhonorable friend go. I send safe escort with them. "

"Bully fer you, ol' pot!" exclaimed Billy, and Pesita smiled delightedlyin the belief that some complimentary title had been applied to him inthe language of "Granavenoo. " "I'll go an' tell 'em, " said Billy. 

"Yes, " said Pesita, "and say to them that they will start early in themorning. "

As Billy turned and walked in the direction that the soldiers had ledBridge and Miguel, Pesita beckoned to a soldier who leaned upon his gunat a short distance from his "general"--a barefooted, slovenly attemptat a headquarters orderly. 

"Send Captain Rozales to me, " directed Pesita. 

The soldier shuffled away to where a little circle of men inwide-brimmed, metal-encrusted hats squatted in the shade of a tree, chatting, laughing, and rolling cigarettes. He saluted one of these anddelivered his message, whereupon the tall, gaunt Captain Rozales aroseand came over to Pesita. 

"The big one who was brought in today is not a gringo, " said Pesita, byway of opening the conversation. "He is from Granavenoo. He can be ofgreat service to us, for he is very friendly with the Germans--yet helooks like a gringo and could pass for one. We can utilize him. Also heis very large and appears to be equally strong. He should make a goodfighter and we have none too many. I have made him a captain. "

Rozales grinned. Already among Pesita's following of a hundred men therewere fifteen captains. 

"Where is Granavenoo?" asked Rozales. 

"You mean to say, my dear captain, " exclaimed Pesita, "that a man ofyour education does not know where Granavenoo is? I am surprised. Why, it is a German colony. "

"Yes, of course. I recall it well now. For the moment it had slipped mymind. My grandfather who was a great traveler was there many times. Ihave heard him speak of it often. "

"But I did not summon you that we might discuss European geography, "interrupted Pesita. "I sent for you to tell you that the stranger wouldnot consent to serve me unless I liberated his friend, the gringo, andthat sneaking spy of a Miguel. I was forced to yield, for we can use thestranger. So I have promised, my dear captain, that I shall send themupon their road with a safe escort in the morning, and you shall commandthe guard. Upon your life respect my promise, Rozales; but if some ofVilla's cutthroats should fall upon you, and in the battle, while youwere trying to defend the gringo and Miguel, both should be slain by thebullets of the Villistas--ah, but it would be deplorable, Rozales, butit would not be your fault. Who, indeed, could blame you who had foughtwell and risked your men and yourself in the performance of your sacredduty? Rozales, should such a thing occur what could I do in token of mygreat pleasure other than make you a colonel?"

"I shall defend them with my life, my general, " cried Rozales, bowinglow. 

"Good!" cried Pesita. "That is all. "

Rozales started back toward the ring of smokers. 

"Ah, Captain!" cried Pesita. "Another thing. Will you make it known tothe other officers that the stranger from Granavenoo is a captain andthat it is my wish that he be well treated, but not told so much asmight injure him, or his usefulness, about our sacred work of liberatingpoor, bleeding unhappy Mexico. "

Again Rozales bowed and departed. This time he was not recalled. 

Billy found Bridge and Miguel squatting on the ground with twodirty-faced peons standing guard over them. The latter were somelittle distance away. They made no objection when Billy approached theprisoners though they had looked in mild surprise when they saw himcrossing toward them without a guard. 

Billy sat down beside Bridge, and broke into a laugh. 

"What's the joke?" asked Bridge. "Are we going to be hanged instead ofbeing shot?"

"We ain't goin' to be either, " said Billy, "an' I'm a captain. Whaddayaknow about that?"

He explained all that had taken place between himself and Pesita whileBridge and Miguel listened attentively to his every word. 

"I t'ought it was about de only way out fer us, " said Billy. "We were inworse than I t'ought. "

"Can the Bowery stuff, Billy, " cried Bridge, "and talk like a white man. You can, you know. "

"All right, bo, " cried Billy, good-naturedly. "You see I forget whenthere is anything pressing like this, to chew about. Then I fall backinto the old lingo. Well, as I was saying, I didn't want to do it unlessyou would stay too, but he wouldn't have you. He has it in for allgringos, and that bull you passed him about me being from a foreigncountry called Grand Avenue! He fell for it like a rube for thetapped-wire stuff. He said if I wouldn't stay and help him he'd croakthe bunch of us. "

"How about that ace-in-the-hole, you were telling me about?" askedBridge. 

"I still got it, " and Billy fondled something hard that swung under hisleft arm beneath his shirt; "but, Lord, man! what could I do againstthe whole bunch? I might get a few of them; but they'd get us all in theend. This other way is better, though I hate to have to split with you, old man. "

He was silent then for a moment, looking hard at the ground. Bridgewhistled, and cleared his throat. 

"I've always wanted to spend a year in Rio, " he said. "We'll meet there, when you can make your get-away. "

"You've said it, " agreed Byrne. "It's Rio as soon as we can make it. Pesita's promised to set you both loose in the morning and send youunder safe escort--Miguel to his happy home, and you to El Orobo Rancho. I guess the old stiff isn't so bad after all. "

Miguel had pricked up his ears at the sound of the word ESCORT. Heleaned far forward, closer to the two Americans, and whispered. 

"Who is to command the escort?" he asked. 

"I dunno, " said Billy. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes all the difference between life and death for your friend andfor me, " said Miguel. "There is no reason why I should need an escort. I know my way throughout all Chihuahua as well as Pesita or any ofhis cutthroats. I have come and gone all my life without an escort. Of course your friend is different. It might be well for him to havecompany to El Orobo. Maybe it is all right; but wait until we learn whocommands the escort. I know Pesita well. I know his methods. If Rozalesrides out with us tomorrow morning you may say good-bye to your friendforever, for you will never see him in Rio, or elsewhere. He and I willbe dead before ten o'clock. "

"What makes you think that, bo?" demanded Billy. 

"I do not think, senor, " replied Miguel; "I know. "

"Well, " said Billy, "we'll wait and see. "

"If it is Rozales, say nothing, " said Miguel. "It will do no good; butwe may then be on the watch, and if possible you might find the meansto obtain a couple of revolvers for us. In which case--" he shrugged andpermitted a faint smile to flex his lips. 

As they talked a soldier came and announced that they were no longerprisoners--they were to have the freedom of the camp; "but, " heconcluded, "the general requests that you do not pass beyond the limitsof the camp. There are many desperadoes in the hills and he fears foryour safety, now that you are his guests. "

The man spoke Spanish, so that it was necessary that Bridge interprethis words for the benefit of Billy, who had understood only part of whathe said. 

"Ask him, " said Byrne, "if that stuff goes for me, too. "

"He says no, " replied Bridge after questioning the soldier, "thatthe captain is now one of them, and may go and come as do the otherofficers. Such are Pesita's orders. "

Billy arose. The messenger had returned to his post at headquarters. Theguard had withdrawn, leaving the three men alone. 

"So long, old man, " said Billy. "If I'm goin' to be of any help to youand Mig the less I'm seen with you the better. I'll blow over and mixwith the Dago bunch, an' practice sittin' on my heels. It seems to bethe right dope down here, an' I got to learn all I can about bein' agreaser seein' that I've turned one. "

"Good-bye Billy, remember Rio, " said Bridge. 

"And the revolvers, senor, " added Miguel. 

"You bet, " replied Billy, and strolled off in the direction of thelittle circle of cigarette smokers. 

As he approached them Rozales looked up and smiled. Then, rising, extended his hand. 

"Senor Captain, " he said, "we welcome you. I am Captain Rozales. " Hehesitated waiting for Billy to give his name. 

"My monacker's Byrne, " said Billy. "Pleased to meet you, Cap. "

"Ah, Captain Byrne, " and Rozales proceeded to introduce the newcomer tohis fellow-officers. 

Several, like Rozales, were educated men who had been officers inthe army under former regimes, but had turned bandit as the saferalternative to suffering immediate death at the hands of the factionthen in power. The others, for the most part, were pure-blooded Indianswhose adult lives had been spent in outlawry and brigandage. All weresmall of stature beside the giant, Byrne. Rozales and two others spokeEnglish. With those Billy conversed. He tried to learn from them thename of the officer who was to command the escort that was to accompanyBridge and Miguel into the valley on the morrow; but Rozales and theothers assured him that they did not know. 

When he had asked the question Billy had been looking straight atRozales, and he had seen the man's pupils contract and noticed theslight backward movement of the body which also denotes determination. Billy knew, therefore, that Rozales was lying. He did know who was tocommand the escort, and there was something sinister in that knowledgeor the fellow would not have denied it. 

The American began to consider plans for saving his friend from the fatewhich Pesita had outlined for him. Rozales, too, was thinking rapidly. He was no fool. Why had the stranger desired to know who was to commandthe escort? He knew none of the officers personally. What differencethen, did it make to him who rode out on the morrow with his friend? Ah, but Miguel knew that it would make a difference. Miguel had spoken tothe new captain, and aroused his suspicions. 

Rozales excused himself and rose. A moment later he was in conversationwith Pesita, unburdening himself of his suspicions, and outlining aplan. 

"Do not send me in charge of the escort, " he advised. "Send CaptainByrne himself. "

Pesita pooh-poohed the idea. 

"But wait, " urged Rozales. "Let the stranger ride in command, with ahalf-dozen picked men who will see that nothing goes wrong. An hourbefore dawn I will send two men--they will be our best shots--on ahead. They will stop at a place we both know, and about noon the CaptainByrne and his escort will ride back to camp and tell us that theywere attacked by a troop of Villa's men, and that both our guests werekilled. It will be sad; but it will not be our fault. We will swearvengeance upon Villa, and the Captain Byrne will hate him as a goodPesitista should. "

"You have the cunning of the Coyote, my captain, " cried Pesita. "Itshall be done as you suggest. Go now, and I will send for Captain Byrne, and give him his orders for the morning. "

As Rozales strolled away a figure rose from the shadows at the side ofPesita's tent and slunk off into the darkness. 

CHAPTER VIII. BILLY'S FIRST COMMAND

AND so it was that having breakfasted in the morning Bridge and Miguelstarted downward toward the valley protected by an escort under CaptainBilly Byrne. An old service jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, both donatedby brother officers, constituted Captain Byrne's uniform. His mount wasthe largest that the picket line of Pesita's forces could produce. Billyloomed large amongst his men. 

For an hour they rode along the trail, Billy and Bridge conversing uponvarious subjects, none of which touched upon the one uppermost in themind of each. Miguel rode, silent and preoccupied. The evening before hehad whispered something to Bridge as he had crawled out of the darknessto lie close to the American, and during a brief moment that morningBridge had found an opportunity to relay the Mexican's message to BillyByrne. 

The latter had but raised his eyebrows a trifle at the time, but laterhe smiled more than was usual with him. Something seemed to please himimmensely. 

Beside him at the head of the column rode Bridge and Miguel. Behind themtrailed the six swarthy little troopers--the picked men upon whom Pesitacould depend. 

They had reached a point where the trail passes through a narrow dryarroyo which the waters of the rainy season had cut deep into thesoft, powdery soil. Upon either bank grew cacti and mesquite, forming asheltering screen behind which a regiment might have hidden. The placewas ideal for an ambuscade. 

"Here, Senor Capitan, " whispered Miguel, as they neared the entrance tothe trap. 

A low hill shut off from their view all but the head of the cut, and italso hid them from the sight of any possible enemy which might have beenlurking in wait for them farther down the arroyo. 

At Miguel's words Byrne wheeled his horse to the right away from thetrail which led through the bottom of the waterway and around the baseof the hill, or rather in that direction, for he had scarce deviatedfrom the direct way before one of the troopers spurred to his side, calling out in Spanish that he was upon the wrong trail. 

"Wot's this guy chewin' about?" asked Billy, turning to Miguel. 

"He says you must keep to the arroyo, Senor Capitan, " explained theMexican. 

"Tell him to go back into his stall, " was Byrne's laconic rejoinder, ashe pushed his mount forward to pass the brigand. 

The soldier was voluble in his objections. Again he reined in front ofBilly, and by this time his five fellows had spurred forward to blockthe way. 

"This is the wrong trail, " they cried. "Come this other way, Capitan. Pesita has so ordered it. "

Catching the drift of their remarks, Billy waved them to one side. 

"I'm bossin' this picnic, " he announced. "Get out o' the way, an' bequick about it if you don't want to be hurted. "

Again he rode forward. Again the troopers interposed their mounts, andthis time their leader cocked his carbine. His attitude was menacing. Billy was close to him. Their ponies were shoulder to shoulder, that ofthe bandit almost broadside of the trail. 

Now Billy Byrne was more than passing well acquainted with many of thefundamental principles of sudden brawls. It is safe to say that he hadnever heard of Van Bibber; but he knew, as well as Van Bibber knew, thatit is well to hit first. 

Without a word and without warning he struck, leaning forward withall the weight of his body behind his blow, and catching the man fullbeneath the chin he lifted him as neatly from his saddle as though abattering ram had struck him. 

Simultaneously Bridge and Miguel drew revolvers from their shirts and asBilly wheeled his pony toward the remaining five they opened fire uponthem. 

The battle was short and sweet. One almost escaped but Miguel, whoproved to be an excellent revolver shot, brought him down at a hundredyards. He then, with utter disregard for the rules of civilized warfare, dispatched those who were not already dead. 

"We must let none return to carry false tales to Pesita, " he explained. 

Even Billy Byrne winced at the ruthlessness of the cold-blooded murders;but he realized the necessity which confronted them though he could nothave brought himself to do the things which the Mexican did with suchsang-froid and even evident enjoyment. 

"Now for the others!" cried Miguel, when he had assured himself thateach of the six were really quite dead. 

Spurring after him Billy and Bridge ran their horses over the roughground at the base of the little hill, and then parallel to the arroyofor a matter of a hundred yards, where they espied two Indians, carbinesin hand, standing in evident consternation because of the unexpectedfusillade of shots which they had just heard and which they were unableto account for. 

At the sight of the three the sharpshooters dropped behind cover andfired. Billy's horse stumbled at the first report, caught himself, reared high upon his hind legs and then toppled over, dead. 

His rider, throwing himself to one side, scrambled to his feet and firedtwice at the partially concealed men. Miguel and Bridge rode in rapidlyto close quarters, firing as they came. One of the two men Pesitahad sent to assassinate his "guests" dropped his gun, clutched at hisbreast, screamed, and sank back behind a clump of mesquite. The otherturned and leaped over the edge of the bank into the arroyo, rolling andtumbling to the bottom in a cloud of dry dust. 

As he rose to his feet and started on a run up the bed of the drystream, dodging a zigzag course from one bit of scant cover to anotherBilly Byrne stepped to the edge of the washout and threw his carbine tohis shoulder. His face was flushed, his eyes sparkled, a smile lightedhis regular features. 

"This is the life!" he cried, and pulled the trigger. 

The man beneath him, running for his life like a frightened jackrabbit, sprawled forward upon his face, made a single effort to rise and thenslumped limply down, forever. 

Miguel and Bridge, dismounted now, came to Byrne's side. The Mexican wasgrinning broadly. 

"The captain is one grand fighter, " he said. "How my dear general wouldadmire such a man as the captain. Doubtless he would make him a colonel. Come with me Senor Capitan and your fortune is made. "

"Come where?" asked Billy Byrne. 

"To the camp of the liberator of poor, bleeding Mexico--to GeneralFrancisco Villa. "

"Nothin' doin', " said Billy. "I'm hooked up with this Pesita person now, an' I guess I'll stick. He's given me more of a run for my money in thelast twenty-four hours than I've had since I parted from my dear oldfriend, the Lord of Yoka. "

"But Senor Capitan, " cried Miguel, "you do not mean to say that you aregoing back to Pesita! He will shoot you down with his own hand when hehas learned what has happened here. "

"I guess not, " said Billy. 

"You'd better go with Miguel, Billy, " urged Bridge. "Pesita will notforgive you this. You've cost him eight men today and he hasn't anymore men than he needs at best. Besides you've made a monkey of him andunless I miss my guess you'll have to pay for it. "

"No, " said Billy, "I kind o' like this Pesita gent. I think I'll stickaround with him for a while yet. Anyhow until I've had a chance to seehis face after I've made my report to him. You guys run along now andmake your get-away good, an' I'll beat it back to camp. "

He crossed to where the two horses of the slain marksmen were hidden, turned one of them loose and mounted the other. 

"So long, boes!" he cried, and with a wave of his hand wheeled about andspurred back along the trail over which they had just come. 

Miguel and Bridge watched him for a moment, then they, too, mounted andturned away in the opposite direction. Bridge recited no verse for thebalance of that day. His heart lay heavy in his bosom, for he missedBilly Byrne, and was fearful of the fate which awaited him at the campof the bandit. 

Billy, blithe as a lark, rode gaily back along the trail to camp. Helooked forward with unmixed delight to his coming interview with Pesita, and to the wild, half-savage life which association with the banditpromised. All his life had Billy Byrne fed upon excitement andadventure. As gangster, thug, holdup man and second-story artist Billyhad found food for his appetite within the dismal, sooty streets ofChicago's great West Side, and then Fate had flung him upon the savageshore of Yoka to find other forms of adventure where the best that isin a strong man may be brought out in the stern battle for existenceagainst primeval men and conditions. The West Side had developed onlyBilly's basest characteristics. He might have slipped back easily intothe old ways had it not been for HER and the recollection of that whichhe had read in her eyes. Love had been there; but greater than that tohold a man into the straight and narrow path of decency and honor hadbeen respect and admiration. It had seemed incredible to Billy that agoddess should feel such things for him--for the same man her scornfullips once had branded as coward and mucker; yet he had read the trutharight, and since then Billy Byrne had done his best according to thefight that had been given him to deserve the belief she had in him. 

So far there had crept into his consciousness no disquieting doubtsas to the consistency of his recent action in joining the force ofa depredating Mexican outlaw. Billy knew nothing of the politicalconditions of the republic. Had Pesita told him that he was president ofMexico, Billy could not have disputed the statement from any knowledgeof facts which he possessed. As a matter of fact about all Billy hadever known of Mexico was that it had some connection with an importantplace called Juarez where running meets were held. 

To Billy Byrne, then, Pesita was a real general, and Billy, himself, a bona fide captain. He had entered an army which was at war with someother army. What they were warring about Billy knew not, nor did hecare. There should be fighting and he loved that--that much he knew. The ethics of Pesita's warfare troubled him not. He had heard that somegreat American general had said: "War is hell. " Billy was willing totake his word for it, and accept anything which came in the guise of waras entirely proper and as it should be. 

The afternoon was far gone when Billy drew rein in the camp of theoutlaw band. Pesita with the bulk of his raiders was out upon someexcursion to the north. Only half a dozen men lolled about, smoking orsleeping away the hot day. They looked at Billy in evident surprisewhen they saw him riding in alone; but they asked no questions and Billyoffered no explanation--his report was for the ears of Pesita only. 

The balance of the day Billy spent in acquiring further knowledge ofSpanish by conversing with those of the men who remained awake, andasking innumerable questions. It was almost sundown when Pesita rodein. Two riderless horses were led by troopers in the rear of thelittle column and three men swayed painfully in their saddles and theirclothing was stained with blood. 

Evidently Pesita had met with resistance. There was much volublechattering on the part of those who had remained behind in theirendeavors to extract from their returning comrades the details of theday's enterprise. By piecing together the various scraps of conversationhe could understand Billy discovered that Pesita had ridden far todemand tribute from a wealthy ranchero, only to find that word ofhis coming had preceded him and brought a large detachment of Villa'sregulars who concealed themselves about the house and outbuildings untilPesita and his entire force were well within close range. 

"We were lucky to get off as well as we did, " said an officer. 

Billy grinned inwardly as he thought of the pleasant frame of mind inwhich Pesita might now be expected to receive the news that eight of histroopers had been killed and his two "guests" safely removed from thesphere of his hospitality. 

And even as his mind dwelt delightedly upon the subject a ragged Indiancarrying a carbine and with heavy silver spurs strapped to his bare feetapproached and saluted him. 

"General Pesita wishes Senor Capitan Byrne to report to him at once, "said the man. 

"Sure Mike!" replied Billy, and made his way through the pandemonium ofthe camp toward the headquarters tent. 

As he went he slipped his hand inside his shirt and loosened somethingwhich hung beneath his left arm. 

"Li'l ol' ace-in-the-hole, " he murmured affectionately. 

He found Pesita pacing back and forth before his tent--an energeticbundle of nerves which no amount of hard riding and fighting could tireor discourage. 

As Billy approached Pesita shot a quick glance at his face, that hemight read, perhaps, in his new officer's expression whether anger orsuspicion had been aroused by the killing of his American friend, forPesita never dreamed but that Bridge had been dead since mid-forenoon. 

"Well, " said Pesita, smiling, "you left Senor Bridge and Miguel safelyat their destination?"

"I couldn't take 'em all the way, " replied Billy, "cause I didn't haveno more men to guard 'em with; but I seen 'em past the danger I guessan' well on their way. "

"You had no men?" questioned Pesita. "You had six troopers. "

"Oh, they was all croaked before we'd been gone two hours. You see ithappens like this: We got as far as that dry arroyo just before thetrail drops down into the valley, when up jumps a bunch of this hereVilla's guys and commenced takin' pot shots at us. 

"Seein' as how I was sent to guard Bridge an' Mig, I makes them dismountand hunt cover, and then me an' my men wades in and cleans up the bunch. They was only a few of them but they croaked the whole bloomin' six o'mine. 

"I tell you it was some scrap while it lasted; but I saved your guestsfrom gettin' hurted an' I know that that's what you sent me to do. It'stoo bad about the six men we lost but, leave it to me, we'll get evenwith that Villa guy yet. Just lead me to 'im. "

As he spoke Billy commenced scratching himself beneath the left arm, andthen, as though to better reach the point of irritation, he slipped hishand inside his shirt. If Pesita noticed the apparently innocent littleact, or interpreted it correctly may or may not have been the fact. Hestood looking straight into Byrne's eyes for a full minute. His facedenoted neither baffled rage nor contemplated revenge. Presently a slowsmile raised his heavy mustache and revealed his strong, white teeth. 

"You have done well, Captain Byrne, " he said. "You are a man after myown heart, " and he extended his hand. 

A half-hour later Billy walked slowly back to his own blankets, and tosay that he was puzzled would scarce have described his mental state. 

"I can't quite make that gink out, " he mused. "Either he's a mighty goodloser or else he's a deep one who'll wait a year to get me the way hewants to get me. "

And Pesita a few moments later was saying to Captain Rozales:

"I should have shot him if I could spare such a man; but it is seldom Ifind one with the courage and effrontery he possesses. Why think of it, Rozales, he kills eight of my men, and lets my prisoners escape, andthen dares to come back and tell me about it when he might easily havegotten away. Villa would have made him an officer for this thing, andMiguel must have told him so. He found out in some way about your littleplan and he turned the tables on us. We can use him, Rozales, but wemust watch him. Also, my dear captain, watch his right hand and when heslips it into his shirt be careful that you do not draw on him--unlessyou happen to be behind him. "

Rozales was not inclined to take his chief's view of Byrne's value tothem. He argued that the man was guilty of disloyalty and therefore amenace. What he thought, but did not advance as an argument, was ofa different nature. Rozales was filled with rage to think that thenewcomer had outwitted him, and beaten him at his own game, and he wasjealous, too, of the man's ascendancy in the esteem of Pesita; but hehid his personal feelings beneath a cloak of seeming acquiescence in hischief's views, knowing that some day his time would come when he mightrid himself of the danger of this obnoxious rival. 

"And tomorrow, " continued Pesita, "I am sending him to Cuivaca. Villahas considerable funds in bank there, and this stranger can learn what Iwant to know about the size of the detachment holding the town, and thehabits of the garrison. "

CHAPTER IX. BARBARA IN MEXICO

THE manager of El Orobo Rancho was an American named Grayson. He was atall, wiry man whose education had been acquired principally in the cowcamps of Texas, where, among other things one does NOT learn to lovenor trust a greaser. As a result of this early training Grayson waspeculiarly unfitted in some respects to manage an American ranch inMexico; but he was a just man, and so if his vaqueros did not lovehim, they at least respected him, and everyone who was or possessed thelatent characteristics of a wrongdoer feared him. 

Perhaps it is not fair to say that Grayson was in any way unfitted forthe position he held, since as a matter of fact he was an ideal ranchforeman, and, if the truth be known, the simple fact that he was agringo would have been sufficient to have won him the hatred of theMexicans who worked under him--not in the course of their everydayrelations; but when the fires of racial animosity were fanned to flameby some untoward incident upon either side of the border. 

Today Grayson was particularly rabid. The more so because he could notvent his anger upon the cause of it, who was no less a person than hisboss. 

It seemed incredible to Grayson that any man of intelligence could haveconceived and then carried out the fool thing which the boss had justdone, which was to have come from the safety of New York City to thehazards of warring Mexico, bringing--and this was the worst featureof it--his daughter with him. And at such a time! Scarce a day passedwithout its rumors or reports of new affronts and even atrocitiesbeing perpetrated upon American residents of Mexico. Each day, too, thegravity of these acts increased. From mere insult they had run of lateto assault and even to murder. Nor was the end in sight. 

Pesita had openly sworn to rid Mexico of the gringo--to kill on sightevery American who fell into his hands. And what could Grayson do incase of a determined attack upon the rancho? It is true he had a hundredmen--laborers and vaqueros, but scarce a dozen of these were Americans, and the rest would, almost without exception, follow the inclinations ofconsanguinity in case of trouble. 

To add to Grayson's irritability he had just lost his bookkeeper, andif there was one thing more than any other that Grayson hated it was penand ink. The youth had been a "lunger" from Iowa, a fairly nice littlechap, and entirely suited to his duties under any other circumstancesthan those which prevailed in Mexico at that time. He was in mortalterror of his life every moment that he was awake, and at last had givenin to the urge of cowardice and resigned. The day previous he had beenbundled into a buckboard and driven over to the Mexican Centralwhich, at that time, still was operating trains--occasionally--betweenChihuahua and Juarez. 

His mind filled with these unpleasant thoughts, Grayson sat at his deskin the office of the ranch trying to unravel the riddle of a balancesheet which would not balance. Mixed with the blue of the smoke from hisbriar was the deeper azure of a spirited monologue in which Grayson wasengaged. 

A girl was passing the building at the moment. At her side walked agray-haired man--one of those men whom you just naturally fit into amental picture of a director's meeting somewhere along Wall Street. 

"Sich langwidge!" cried the girl, with a laugh, covering her ears withher palms. 

The man at her side smiled. 

"I can't say that I blame him much, Barbara, " he replied. "It was avery foolish thing for me to bring you down here at this time. I can'tunderstand what ever possessed me to do it. "

"Don't blame yourself, dear, " remonstrated the girl, "when it was all myfault. I begged and begged and begged until you had to consent, and I'mnot sorry either--if nothing happens to you because of our coming. Icouldn't stay in New York another minute. Everyone was so snoopy, andI could just tell that they were dying to ask questions about Billy andme. "

"I can't get it through my head yet, Barbara, " said the man, "why in theworld you broke with Billy Mallory. He's one of the finest young men inNew York City today--just my ideal of the sort of man I'd like my onlydaughter to marry. "

"I tried, Papa, " said the girl in a low voice; "but I couldn't--I justcouldn't. "

"Was it because--" the man stopped abruptly. "Well, never mind dear, I shan't be snoopy too. Here now, you run along and do some snoopingyourself about the ranch. I want to stop in and have a talk withGrayson. "

Down by one of the corrals where three men were busily engaged inattempting to persuade an unbroken pony that a spade bit is a pleasantthing to wear in one's mouth, Barbara found a seat upon a wagon boxwhich commanded an excellent view of the entertainment going on withinthe corral. As she sat there experiencing a combination of admirationfor the agility and courage of the men and pity for the horse the tonesof a pleasant masculine voice broke in upon her thoughts. 

 "Out there somewhere!" says I to me. "By Gosh, I guess, thats poetry!" "Out there somewhere--Penelope--with kisses on her mouth!" And then, thinks I, "O college guy! your talk it gets me in the eye, The north is creeping in the air, the birds are flying south. "

Barbara swung around to view the poet. She saw a slender man astride afagged Mexican pony. A ragged coat and ragged trousers covered theman's nakedness. Indian moccasins protected his feet, while a torn andshapeless felt hat sat upon his well-shaped head. AMERICAN was writtenall over him. No one could have imagined him anything else. Apparentlyhe was a tramp as well--his apparel proclaimed him that; but therewere two discordant notes in the otherwise harmonious ensemble of yourtypical bo. He was clean shaven and he rode a pony. He rode erect, too, with the easy seat of an army officer. 

At sight of the girl he raised his battered hat and swept it low to hispony's shoulder as he bent in a profound bow. 

"I seek the majordomo, senorita, " he said. 

"Mr. Grayson is up at the office, that little building to the left ofthe ranchhouse, " replied the girl, pointing. 

The newcomer had addressed her in Spanish, and as he heard her reply, in pure and liquid English, his eyes widened a trifle; but the familiarsmile with which he had greeted her left his face, and his parting bowwas much more dignified though no less profound than its predecessor. 

 And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me, With buds of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth. 

Grayson and his employer both looked up as the words of Knibbs' poemfloated in to them through the open window. 

"I wonder where that blew in from, " remarked Grayson, as his eyesdiscovered Bridge astride the tired pony, looking at him through thewindow. A polite smile touched the stranger's lips as his eyes metGrayson's, and then wandered past him to the imposing figure of theEasterner. 

"Good evening, gentlemen, " said Bridge. 

"Evenin', " snapped Grayson. "Go over to the cookhouse and the Chink'llgive you something to eat. Turn your pony in the lower pasture. Smith'llshow you where to bunk tonight, an' you kin hev your breakfast in themornin'. S'long!" The ranch superintendent turned back to the paper inhis hand which he had been discussing with his employer at the moment ofthe interruption. He had volleyed his instructions at Bridge as thoughpouring a rain of lead from a machine gun, and now that he had said whathe had to say the incident was closed in so far as he was concerned. 

The hospitality of the Southwest permitted no stranger to be turned awaywithout food and a night's lodging. Grayson having arranged for thesefelt that he had done all that might be expected of a host, especiallywhen the uninvited guest was so obviously a hobo and doubtless a horsethief as well, for who ever knew a hobo to own a horse?

Bridge continued to sit where he had reined in his pony. He was lookingat Grayson with what the discerning boss judged to be politely concealedenjoyment. 

"Possibly, " suggested the boss in a whisper to his aide, "the man hasbusiness with you. You did not ask him, and I am sure that he saidnothing about wishing a meal or a place to sleep. "

"Huh?" grunted Grayson, and then to Bridge, "Well, what the devil DO youwant?"

"A job, " replied Bridge, "or, to be more explicit, I need a job--far beit from me to WISH one. "

The Easterner smiled. Grayson looked a bit mystified--and irritated. 

"Well, I hain't got none, " he snapped. "We don't need nobody now unlessit might be a good puncher--one who can rope and ride. "

"I can ride, " replied Bridge, "as is evidenced by the fact that you nowsee me astride a horse. "

"I said RIDE, " said Grayson. "Any fool can SIT on a horse. NO, I hain'tgot nothin', an' I'm busy now. Hold on!" he exclaimed as though seizedby a sudden inspiration. He looked sharply at Bridge for a moment andthen shook his head sadly. "No, I'm afraid you couldn't do it--a guy'sgot to be eddicated for the job I got in mind. "

"Washing dishes?" suggested Bridge. 

Grayson ignored the playfulness of the other's question. 

"Keepin' books, " he explained. There was a finality in his tone whichsaid: "As you, of course, cannot keep books the interview is now over. Get out!"

"I could try, " said Bridge. "I can read and write, you know. Let metry. " Bridge wanted money for the trip to Rio, and, too, he wanted tostay in the country until Billy was ready to leave. 

"Savvy Spanish?" asked Grayson. 

"I read and write it better than I speak it, " said Bridge, "though I dothe latter well enough to get along anywhere that it is spoken. "

Grayson wanted a bookkeeper worse than he could ever recall havingwanted anything before in all his life. His better judgment told himthat it was the height of idiocy to employ a ragged bum as a bookkeeper;but the bum was at least as much of a hope to him as is a straw to adrowning man, and so Grayson clutched at him. 

"Go an' turn your cayuse in an' then come back here, " he directed, "an'I'll give you a tryout. "

"Thanks, " said Bridge, and rode off in the direction of the pasturegate. 

"'Fraid he won't never do, " said Grayson, ruefully, after Bridge hadpassed out of earshot. 

"I rather imagine that he will, " said the boss. "He is an educated man, Grayson--you can tell that from his English, which is excellent. He'sprobably one of the great army of down-and-outers. The world is fullof them--poor devils. Give him a chance, Grayson, and anyway he addsanother American to our force, and each one counts. "

"Yes, that's right; but I hope you won't need 'em before you an' MissBarbara go, " said Grayson. 

"I hope not, Grayson; but one can never tell with conditions here suchas they are. Have you any hope that you will be able to obtain a safeconduct for us from General Villa?"

"Oh, Villa'll give us the paper all right, " said Grayson; "but it won'tdo us no good unless we don't meet nobody but Villa's men on the wayout. This here Pesita's the critter I'm leery of. He's got it in for allAmericans, and especially for El Orobo Rancho. You know we beat off araid of his about six months ago--killed half a dozen of his men, an' hewon't never forgive that. Villa can't spare a big enough force to giveus safe escort to the border and he can't assure the safety of the trainservice. It looks mighty bad, sir--I don't see what in hell you camefor. "

"Neither do I, Grayson, " agreed the boss; "but I'm here and we've gotto make the best of it. All this may blow over--it has before--and we'lllaugh at our fears in a few weeks. "

"This thing that's happenin' now won't never blow over 'til the starsand stripes blow over Chihuahua, " said Grayson with finality. 

A few moments later Bridge returned to the office, having unsaddled hispony and turned it into the pasture. 

"What's your name?" asked Grayson, preparing to enter it in his timebook. 

"Bridge, " replied the new bookkeeper. 

"'Nitials, " snapped Grayson. 

Bridge hesitated. "Oh, put me down as L. Bridge, " he said. 

"Where from?" asked the ranch foreman. 

"El Orobo Rancho, " answered Bridge. 

Grayson shot a quick glance at the man. The answer confirmed hissuspicions that the stranger was probably a horse thief, which, inGrayson's estimation, was the worst thing a man could be. 

"Where did you get that pony you come in on?" he demanded. "I ain'tsayin' nothin' of course, but I jest want to tell you that we ain't gotno use for horse thieves here. "

The Easterner, who had been a listener, was shocked by the brutality ofGrayson's speech; but Bridge only laughed. 

"If you must know, " he said, "I never bought that horse, an' the man hebelonged to didn't give him to me. I just took him. "

"You got your nerve, " growled Grayson. "I guess you better git out. Wedon't want no horse thieves here. "

"Wait, " interposed the boss. "This man doesn't act like a horse thief. A horse thief, I should imagine, would scarcely admit his guilt. Let'shave his story before we judge him. "

"All right, " said Grayson; "but he's just admitted he stole the horse. "

Bridge turned to the boss. "Thanks, " he said; "but really I did stealthe horse. "

Grayson made a gesture which said: "See, I told you so. "

"It was like this, " went on Bridge. "The gentleman who owned the horse, together with some of his friends, had been shooting at me and myfriends. When it was all over there was no one left to inform us whowere the legal heirs of the late owners of this and several other horseswhich were left upon our hands, so I borrowed this one. The law wouldsay, doubtless, that I had stolen it; but I am perfectly willing toreturn it to its rightful owners if someone will find them for me. "

"You been in a scrap?" asked Grayson. "Who with?"

"A party of Pesita's men, " replied Bridge. 

"When?"

"Yesterday. "

"You see they are working pretty close, " said Grayson, to his employer, and then to Bridge: "Well, if you took that cayuse from one of Pesita'sbunch you can't call that stealin'. Your room's in there, back of theoffice, an' you'll find some clothes there that the last man forgot totake with him. You ken have 'em, an' from the looks o' yourn you need'em. "

"Thank you, " replied Bridge. "My clothes are a bit rusty. I shall haveto speak to James about them, " and he passed through into the littlebedroom off the office, and closed the door behind him. 

"James?" grunted Grayson. "Who the devil does he mean by James? I hain'tseen but one of 'em. "

The boss was laughing quietly. 

"The man's a character, " he said. "He'll be worth all you pay him--ifyou can appreciate him, which I doubt, Grayson. "

"I ken appreciate him if he ken keep books, " replied Grayson. "That'sall I ask of him. "

When Bridge emerged from the bedroom he was clothed in white ducktrousers, a soft shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes, and such a changehad they wrought in his appearance that neither Grayson nor his employerwould have known him had they not seen him come from the room into whichthey had sent him to make the exchange of clothing. 

"Feel better?" asked the boss, smiling. 

"Clothes are but an incident with me, " replied Bridge. "I wear thembecause it is easier to do so than it would be to dodge the weather andthe police. Whatever I may have upon my back affects in no way whatI have within my head. No, I cannot say that I feel any better, sincethese clothes are not as comfortable as my old ones. However if itpleases Mr. Grayson that I should wear a pink kimono while working forhim I shall gladly wear a pink kimono. What shall I do first, sir?" Thequestion was directed toward Grayson. 

"Sit down here an' see what you ken make of this bunch of trouble, "replied the foreman. "I'll talk with you again this evenin'. "

As Grayson and his employer quitted the office and walked togethertoward the corrals the latter's brow was corrugated by thought and hisfacial expression that of one who labors to fasten upon a baffling andillusive recollection. 

"It beats all, Grayson, " he said presently; "but I am sure that I haveknown this new bookkeeper of yours before. The moment he came out ofthat room dressed like a human being I knew that I had known him; butfor the life of me I can't place him. I should be willing to wagerconsiderable, however, that his name is not Bridge. "

"S'pect you're right, " assented Grayson. "He's probably one o' themeastern dude bank clerks what's gone wrong and come down here to hide. Mighty fine place to hide jest now, too. 

"And say, speakin' of banks, " he went on, "what'll I do 'bout sendin'over to Cuivaca fer the pay tomorrow. Next day's pay day. I don't liketo send this here bum, I can't trust a greaser no better, an' I can'tspare none of my white men thet I ken trust. "

"Send him with a couple of the most trustworthy Mexicans you have, "suggested the boss. 

"There ain't no sich critter, " replied Grayson; "but I guess that's thebest I ken do. I'll send him along with Tony an' Benito--they hateeach other too much to frame up anything together, an' they both hate agringo. I reckon they'll hev a lovely trip. "

"But they'll get back with the money, eh?" queried the boss. 

"If Pesita don't get 'em, " replied Grayson. 

CHAPTER X. BILLY CRACKS A SAFE

BILLY BYRNE, captain, rode into Cuivaca from the south. He had made awide detour in order to accomplish this; but under the circumstances hehad thought it wise to do so. In his pocket was a safe conduct from oneof Villa's generals farther south--a safe conduct taken by Pesita fromthe body of one of his recent victims. It would explain Billy's presencein Cuivaca since it had been intended to carry its rightful possessor toJuarez and across the border into the United States. 

He found the military establishment at Cuivaca small and ill commanded. There were soldiers upon the streets; but the only regularly detailedguard was stationed in front of the bank. No one questioned Billy. Hedid not have to show his safe conduct. 

"This looks easy, " thought Billy. "A reg'lar skinch. "

He first attended to his horse, turning him into a public corral, and then sauntered up the street to the bank, which he entered, stillunquestioned. Inside he changed a bill of large denomination whichPesita had given him for the purpose of an excuse to examine the lay ofthe bank from the inside. Billy took a long time to count the change. All the time his eyes wandered about the interior while he made mentalnotes of such salient features as might prove of moment to him later. The money counted Billy slowly rolled a cigarette. 

He saw that the bank was roughly divided into two sections by a wire andwood partition. On one side were the customers, on the other the clerksand a teller. The latter sat behind a small wicket through which hereceived deposits and cashed checks. Back of him, against the wall, stood a large safe of American manufacture. Billy had had businessbefore with similar safes. A doorway in the rear wall led into the yardbehind the building. It was closed by a heavy door covered with sheetiron and fastened by several bolts and a thick, strong bar. There wereno windows in the rear wall. From that side the bank appeared almostimpregnable to silent assault. 

Inside everything was primitive and Billy found himself wondering howa week passed without seeing a bank robbery in the town. Possibly thestrong rear defenses and the armed guard in front accounted for it. 

Satisfied with what he had learned he passed out onto the sidewalk andcrossed the street to a saloon. Some soldiers and citizens were drinkingat little tables in front of the bar. A couple of card games were inprogress, and through the open rear doorway Billy saw a little gatheringencircling a cock fight. 

In none of these things was Billy interested. What he had wished inentering the saloon was merely an excuse to place himself upon theopposite side of the street from the bank that he might inspect thefront from the outside without arousing suspicion. 

Having purchased and drunk a bottle of poor beer, the temperature ofwhich had probably never been below eighty since it left the bottlingdepartment of the Texas brewery which inflicted it upon the ignorant, hesauntered to the front window and looked out. 

There he saw that the bank building was a two-story affair, the entranceto the second story being at the left side of the first floor, openingdirectly onto the sidewalk in full view of the sentry who paced to andfro before the structure. 

Billy wondered what the second floor was utilized for. He saw soiledhangings at the windows which aroused a hope and a sudden inspiration. There was a sign above the entrance to the second floor; but Billy'sknowledge of the language had not progressed sufficiently to permit himto translate it, although he had his suspicions as to its meaning. Hewould learn if his guess was correct. 

Returning to the bar he ordered another bottle of beer, and as he drankit he practiced upon the bartender some of his recently acquired Spanishand learned, though not without considerable difficulty, that he mightfind lodgings for the night upon the second floor of the bank building. 

Much elated, Billy left the saloon and walked along the street until hecame to the one general store of the town. After another heart rendingscrimmage with the language of Ferdinand and Isabella he succeeded inmaking several purchases--two heavy sacks, a brace, two bits, and akeyhole saw. Placing the tools in one of the sacks he wrapped the wholein the second sack and made his way back to the bank building. 

Upon the second floor he found the proprietor of the rooming-house andengaged a room in the rear of the building, overlooking the yard. Thelayout was eminently satisfactory to Captain Byrne and it was witha feeling of great self-satisfaction that he descended and sought arestaurant. 

He had been sent by Pesita merely to look over the ground and thedefenses of the town, that the outlaw might later ride in with hisentire force and loot the bank; but Billy Byrne, out of his pastexperience in such matters, had evolved a much simpler plan forseparating the enemy from his wealth. 

Having eaten, Billy returned to his room. It was now dark and the bankclosed and unlighted showed that all had left it. Only the sentry pacedup and down the sidewalk in front. 

Going at once to his room Billy withdrew his tools from their hidingplace beneath the mattress, and a moment later was busily engaged inboring holes through the floor at the foot of his bed. For an hour heworked, cautiously and quietly, until he had a rough circle of holesenclosing a space about two feet in diameter. Then he laid aside thebrace and bit, and took the keyhole saw, with which he patiently sawedthrough the wood between contiguous holes, until, the circle completed, he lifted out a section of the floor leaving an aperture large enough topermit him to squeeze his body through when the time arrived for him topass into the bank beneath. 

While Billy had worked three men had ridden into Cuivaca. They wereTony, Benito, and the new bookkeeper of El Orobo Rancho. The Mexicans, after eating, repaired at once to the joys of the cantina; while Bridgesought a room in the building to which his escort directed him. 

As chance would have it, it was the same building in which Billy laboredand the room lay upon the rear side of it overlooking the same yard. ButBridge did not lie awake to inspect his surroundings. For years he hadnot ridden as many miles as he had during the past two days, so thatlong unused muscles cried out for rest and relaxation. As a result, Bridge was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, andso profound was his slumber that it seemed that nothing short of aconvulsion of nature would arouse him. 

As Bridge lay down upon his bed Billy Byrne left his room and descendedto the street. The sentry before the bank paid no attention to him, and Billy passed along, unhindered, to the corral where he had left hishorse. Here, as he was saddling the animal, he was accosted, much to hisdisgust, by the proprietor. 

In broken English the man expressed surprise that Billy rode out so lateat night, and the American thought that he detected something morethan curiosity in the other's manner and tone--suspicion of the strangegringo. 

It would never do to leave the fellow in that state of mind, and soBilly leaned close to the other's ear, and with a broad grin and a winkwhispered: "Senorita, " and jerked his thumb toward the south. "I'll beback by mornin', " he added. 

The Mexican's manner altered at once. He laughed and nodded, knowingly, and poked Billy in the ribs. Then he watched him mount and ride outof the corral toward the south--which was also in the direction of thebank, to the rear of which Billy rode without effort to conceal hismovements. 

There he dismounted and left his horse standing with the bridle reinsdragging upon the ground, while he removed the lariat from the pommel ofthe saddle, and, stuffing it inside his shirt, walked back to the streeton which the building stood, and so made his way past the sentry and tohis room. 

Here he pushed back the bed which he had drawn over the hole in thefloor, dropped his two sacks through into the bank, and tying the braceto one end of the lariat lowered it through after the sacks. 

Looping the middle of the lariat over a bedpost Billy grasped bothstrands firmly and lowered himself through the aperture into the roombeneath. He made no more noise in his descent than he had made uponother similar occasions in his past life when he had practiced thegentle art of porch-climbing along Ashland Avenue and WashingtonBoulevard. 

Having gained the floor he pulled upon one end of the lariat until hehad drawn it free of the bedpost above, when it fell into his waitinghands. Coiling it carefully Billy placed it around his neck and underone arm. Billy, acting as a professional, was a careful and methodicalman. He always saw that every little detail was properly attended tobefore he went on to the next phase of his endeavors. Because of thisingrained caution Billy had long since secured the tops of the two sackstogether, leaving only a sufficient opening to permit of their eachbeing filled without delay or inconvenience. 

Now he turned his attention to the rear door. The bar and bolts wereeasily shot from their seats from the inside, and Billy saw to it thatthis was attended to before he went further with his labors. It werewell to have one's retreat assured at the earliest possible moment. Asingle bolt Billy left in place that he might not be surprised by anintruder; but first he had tested it and discovered that it could bedrawn with ease. 

These matters satisfactorily attended to Billy assaulted the combinationknob of the safe with the metal bit which he had inserted in the bracebefore lowering it into the bank. 

The work was hard and progressed slowly. It was necessary to withdrawthe bit often and lubricate it with a piece of soap which Billy hadbrought along in his pocket for the purpose; but eventually a hole wasbored through into the tumblers of the combination lock. 

From without Billy could hear the footsteps of the sentry pacing backand forth within fifty feet of him, all unconscious that the bank he wasguarding was being looted almost beneath his eyes. Once a corporal camewith another soldier and relieved the sentry. After that Billy heard thefootfalls no longer, for the new sentry was barefoot. 

The boring finished, Billy drew a bit of wire from an inside pocket andinserted it in the hole. Then, working the wire with accustomed fingers, he turned the combination knob this way and that, feeling with the bitof wire until the tumblers should all be in line. 

This, too, was slow work; but it was infinitely less liable to attractattention than any other method of safe cracking with which Billy wasfamiliar. 

It was long past midnight when Captain Byrne was rewarded withsuccess--the tumblers clicked into position, the handle of the safe doorturned and the bolts slipped back. 

To swing open the door and transfer the contents of the safe to the twosacks was the work of but a few minutes. As Billy rose and threw theheavy burden across a shoulder he heard a challenge from without, andthen a parley. Immediately after the sound of footsteps ascending thestairway to the rooming-house came plainly to his ears, and then he hadslipped the last bolt upon the rear door and was out in the yard beyond. 

Now Bridge, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion that the boom of acannon might not have disturbed, did that inexplicable thing which everyone of us has done a hundred times in our lives. He awakened, with astart, out of a sound sleep, though no disturbing noise had reached hisears. 

Something impelled him to sit up in bed, and as he did so he could seethrough the window beside him into the yard at the rear of the building. There in the moonlight he saw a man throwing a sack across the horn ofa saddle. He saw the man mount, and he saw him wheel his horse aroundabout and ride away toward the north. There seemed to Bridge nothingunusual about the man's act, nor had there been any indication eitherof stealth or haste to arouse the American's suspicions. Bridge lay backagain upon his pillows and sought to woo the slumber which the suddenawakening seemed to have banished for the remainder of the night. 

And up the stairway to the second floor staggered Tony and Benito. Theirmoney was gone; but they had acquired something else which appeared muchmore difficult to carry and not so easily gotten rid of. 

Tony held the key to their room. It was the second room upon the rightof the hall. Tony remembered that very distinctly. He had impressed itupon his mind before leaving the room earlier in the evening, for Tonyhad feared some such contingency as that which had befallen. 

Tony fumbled with the handle of a door, and stabbed vainly at an elusivekeyhole. 

"Wait, " mumbled Benito. "This is not the room. It was the second doorfrom the stairway. This is the third. "

Tony lurched about and staggered back. Tony reasoned: "If that was thethird door the next behind me must be the second, and on the right;" butTony took not into consideration that he had reversed the direction ofhis erratic wobbling. He lunged across the hall--not because he wishedto but because the spirits moved him. He came in contact with a door. "This, then, must be the second door, " he soliloquized, "and it is uponmy right. Ah, Benito, this is the room!"

Benito was skeptical. He said as much; but Tony was obdurate. Did he notknow a second door when he saw one? Was he, furthermore, not a grown manand therefore entirely capable of distinguishing between his left handand his right? Yes! Tony was all of that, and more, so Tony insertedthe key in the lock--it would have turned any lock upon the secondfloor--and, lo! the door swung inward upon its hinges. 

"Ah! Benito, " cried Tony. "Did I not tell you so? See! This is our room, for the key opens the door. "

The room was dark. Tony, carried forward by the weight of his head, which had long since grown unaccountably heavy, rushed his feet rapidlyforward that he might keep them within a few inches of his center ofequilibrium. 

The distance which it took his feet to catch up with his head was equalto the distance between the doorway and the foot of the bed, and whenTony reached that spot, with Benito meandering after him, the latter, much to his astonishment, saw in the diffused moonlight which pervadedthe room, the miraculous disappearance of his former enemy and erstwhilefriend. Then from the depths below came a wild scream and a heavy thud. 

The sentry upon the beat before the bank heard both. For an instant hestood motionless, then he called aloud for the guard, and turned towardthe bank door. But this was locked and he could but peer in through thewindows. Seeing a dark form within, and being a Mexican he raised hisrifle and fired through the glass of the doors. 

Tony, who had dropped through the hole which Billy had used so quietly, heard the zing of a bullet pass his head, and the impact as it sploshedinto the adobe wall behind him. With a second yell Tony dodged behindthe safe and besought Mary to protect him. 

From above Benito peered through the hole into the blackness below. Downthe hall came the barefoot landlord, awakened by the screams and theshot. Behind him came Bridge, buckling his revolver belt about his hipsas he ran. Not having been furnished with pajamas Bridge had not thoughtit necessary to remove his clothing, and so he had lost no time indressing. 

When the two, now joined by Benito, reached the street they found theguard there, battering in the bank doors. Benito, fearing for the lifeof Tony, which if anyone took should be taken by him, rushed uponthe sergeant of the guard, explaining with both lips and hands theremarkable accident which had precipitated Tony into the bank. 

The sergeant listened, though he did not believe, and when the doors hadfallen in, he commanded Tony to come out with his hands above his head. Then followed an investigation which disclosed the looting of the safe, and the great hole in the ceiling through which Tony had tumbled. 

The bank president came while the sergeant and the landlord were inBilly's room investigating. Bridge had followed them. 

"It was the gringo, " cried the excited Boniface. "This is his room. Hehas cut a hole in my floor which I shall have to pay to have repaired. "

A captain came next, sleepy-eyed and profane. When he heard what hadhappened and that the wealth which he had been detailed to guard hadbeen taken while he slept, he tore his hair and promised that the sentryshould be shot at dawn. 

By the time they had returned to the street all the male population ofCuivaca was there and most of the female. 

"One-thousand dollars, " cried the bank president, "to the man who stopsthe thief and returns to me what the villain has stolen. "

A detachment of soldiers was in the saddle and passing the bank as theoffer was made. 

"Which way did he go?" asked the captain. "Did no one see him leave?"

Bridge was upon the point of saying that he had seen him and that he hadridden north, when it occurred to him that a thousand dollars--even athousand dollars Mex--was a great deal of money, and that it would carryboth himself and Billy to Rio and leave something for pleasure beside. 

Then up spoke a tall, thin man with the skin of a coffee bean. 

"I saw him, Senor Capitan, " he cried. "He kept his horse in my corral, and at night he came and took it out saying that he was riding to visita senorita. He fooled me, the scoundrel; but I will tell you--he rodesouth. I saw him ride south with my own eyes. "

"Then we shall have him before morning, " cried the captain, "for thereis but one place to the south where a robber would ride, and he has nothad sufficient start of us that he can reach safety before we overhaulhim. Forward! March!" and the detachment moved down the narrow street. "Trot! March!" And as they passed the store: "Gallop! March!"

Bridge almost ran the length of the street to the corral. His pony mustbe rested by now, and a few miles to the north the gringo whose capturemeant a thousand dollars to Bridge was on the road to liberty. 

"I hate to do it, " thought Bridge; "because, even if he is a bankrobber, he's an American; but I need the money and in all probabilitythe fellow is a scoundrel who should have been hanged long ago. "

Over the trail to the north rode Captain Billy Byrne, secure in thebelief that no pursuit would develop until after the opening hour ofthe bank in the morning, by which time he would be halfway on his returnjourney to Pesita's camp. 

"Ol' man Pesita'll be some surprised when I show him what I got forhim, " mused Billy. "Say!" he exclaimed suddenly and aloud, "Why thedevil should I take all this swag back to that yellow-faced yegg? Whopulled this thing off anyway? Why me, of course, and does anybody thinkBilly Byrne's boob enough to split with a guy that didn't have a hand init at all. Split! Why the nut'll take it all!

"Nix! Me for the border. I couldn't do a thing with all this coin downin Rio, an' Bridgie'll be along there most any time. We can hit it upsome in lil' ol' Rio on this bunch o' dough. Why, say kid, there must bea million here, from the weight of it. "

A frown suddenly clouded his face. "Why did I take it?" he askedhimself. "Was I crackin' a safe, or was I pullin' off something fine ferpoor, bleedin' Mexico? If I was a-doin' that they ain't nothin' criminalin what I done--except to the guy that owned the coin. If I was justplain crackin' a safe on my own hook why then I'm a crook again an' Ican't be that--no, not with that face of yours standin' out there soplain right in front of me, just as though you were there yourself, askin' me to remember an' be decent. God! Barbara--why wasn't I born forthe likes of you, and not just a measly, ornery mucker like I am. Oh, hell! what is that that Bridge sings of Knibbs's:

 There ain't no sweet Penelope somewhere that's longing much for me, But I can smell the blundering sea, and hear the rigging hum; And I can hear the whispering lips that fly before the out-bound ships, And I can hear the breakers on the sand a-calling "Come!"

Billy took off his hat and scratched his head. 

"Funny, " he thought, "how a girl and poetry can get a tough nut like me. I wonder what the guys that used to hang out in back of Kelly's 'udsay if they seen what was goin' on in my bean just now. They'd callme Lizzy, eh? Well, they wouldn't call me Lizzy more'n once. I may begettin' soft in the head, but I'm all to the good with my dukes. "

Speed is not conducive to sentimental thoughts and so Billy hadunconsciously permitted his pony to drop into a lazy walk. There was noneed for haste anyhow. No one knew yet that the bank had been robbed, or at least so Billy argued. He might, however, have thought differentlyupon the subject of haste could he have had a glimpse of the horseman inhis rear--two miles behind him, now, but rapidly closing up the distanceat a keen gallop, while he strained his eyes across the moonlit flatahead in eager search for his quarry. 

So absorbed was Billy Byrne in his reflections that his ears were deafto the pounding of the hoofs of the pursuer's horse upon the soft dustof the dry road until Bridge was little more than a hundred yards fromhim. For the last half-mile Bridge had had the figure of the fugitive infull view and his mind had been playing rapidly with seductive visionsof the one-thousand dollars reward--one-thousand dollars Mex, perhaps, but still quite enough to excite pleasant thoughts. At the first glimpseof the horseman ahead Bridge had reined his mount down to a trot thatthe noise of his approach might thereby be lessened. He had drawn hisrevolver from its holster, and was upon the point of putting spursto his horse for a sudden dash upon the fugitive when the man ahead, finally attracted by the noise of the other's approach, turned in hissaddle and saw him. 

Neither recognized the other, and at Bridge's command of, "Hands up!"Billy, lightning-like in his quickness, drew and fired. The bullet rakedBridge's hat from his head but left him unscathed. 

Billy had wheeled his pony around until he stood broadside towardBridge. The latter fired scarce a second after Billy's shot had pingedso perilously close--fired at a perfect target but fifty yards away. 

At the sound of the report the robber's horse reared and plunged, then, wheeling and tottering high upon its hind feet, fell backward. Billy, realizing that his mount had been hit, tried to throw himself from thesaddle; but until the very moment that the beast toppled over the manwas held by his cartridge belt which, as the animal first lunged, hadcaught over the high horn of the Mexican saddle. 

The belt slipped from the horn as the horse was falling, and Billysucceeded in throwing himself a little to one side. One leg, however, was pinned beneath the animal's body and the force of the fall jarredthe revolver from Billy's hand to drop just beyond his reach. 

His carbine was in its boot at the horse's side, and the animal waslying upon it. Instantly Bridge rode to his side and covered him withhis revolver. 

"Don't move, " he commanded, "or I'll be under the painful necessity ofterminating your earthly endeavors right here and now. "

"Well, for the love o' Mike!" cried the fallen bandit "You?"

Bridge was off his horse the instant that the familiar voice sounded inhis ears. 

"Billy!" he exclaimed. "Why--Billy--was it you who robbed the bank?"

Even as he spoke Bridge was busy easing the weight of the dead pony fromBilly's leg. 

"Anything broken?" he asked as the bandit struggled to free himself. 

"Not so you could notice it, " replied Billy, and a moment later he wason his feet. "Say, bo, " he added, "it's a mighty good thing you droppedlittle pinto here, for I'd a sure got you my next shot. Gee! it makesme sweat to think of it. But about this bank robbin' business. You can'texactly say that I robbed a bank. That money was the enemy's resources, an' I just nicked their resources. That's war. That ain't robbery. I ain't takin' it for myself--it's for the cause--the cause o' poor, bleedin' Mexico, " and Billy grinned a large grin. 

"You took it for Pesita?" asked Bridge. 

"Of course, " replied Billy. "I won't get a jitney of it. I wouldn't takenone of it, Bridge, honest. I'm on the square now. "

"I know you are, Billy, " replied the other; "but if you're caughtyou might find it difficult to convince the authorities of yourhighmindedness and your disinterestedness. "

"Authorities!" scoffed Billy. "There ain't no authorities in Mexico. Onebandit is just as good as another, and from Pesita to Carranza they'reall bandits at heart. They ain't a one of 'em that gives two whoopsin hell for poor, bleedin' Mexico--unless they can do the bleedin'themselves. It's dog eat dog here. If they caught me they'd shoot mewhether I'd robbed their bank or not. What's that?" Billy was suddenlyalert, straining his eyes back in the direction of Cuivaca. 

"They're coming, Billy, " said Bridge. "Take my horse--quick! You mustget out of here in a hurry. The whole post is searching for you. Ithought that they went toward the south, though. Some of them must havecircled. "

"What'll you do if I take your horse?" asked Billy. 

"I can walk back, " said Bridge, "it isn't far to town. I'll tell themthat I had come only a short distance when my horse threw me and ranaway. They'll believe it for they think I'm a rotten horseman--the twovaqueros who escorted me to town I mean. "

Billy hesitated. "I hate to do it, Bridge, " he said. 

"You must, Billy, " urged the other. 

"If they find us here together it'll merely mean that the two of us willget it, for I'll stick with you, Billy, and we can't fight off a wholetroop of cavalry out here in the open. If you take my horse we can bothget out of it, and later I'll see you in Rio. Good-bye, Billy, I'm offfor town, " and Bridge turned and started back along the road on foot. 

Billy watched him in silence for a moment. The truth of Bridge'sstatement of fact was so apparent that Billy was forced to accept theplan. A moment later he transferred the bags of loot to Bridge's pony, swung into the saddle, and took a last backward look at the diminishingfigure of the man swinging along in the direction of Cuivaca. 

"Say, " he muttered to himself; "but you're a right one, bo, " andwheeling to the north he clapped his spurs to his new mount and lopedeasily off into the night. 

CHAPTER XI. BARBARA RELEASES A CONSPIRATOR

IT was a week later, yet Grayson still was growling about the loss of"that there Brazos pony. " Grayson, the boss, and the boss's daughterwere sitting upon the veranda of the ranchhouse when the foremanreverted to the subject. 

"I knew I didn't have no business hirin' a man thet can't ride, " hesaid. "Why thet there Brazos pony never did stumble, an' if he'd ofstumbled he'd a-stood aroun' a year waitin' to be caught up agin. I jestcain't figger it out no ways how thet there tenderfoot bookkeeper losthim. He must a-shooed him away with a stick. An' saddle an' bridle an'all gone too. Doggone it!"

"I'm the one who should be peeved, " spoke up the girl with a wry smile. "Brazos was my pony. He's the one you picked out for me to ride whileI am here; but I am sure poor Mr. Bridge feels as badly about it asanyone, and I know that he couldn't help it. We shouldn't be too hardon him. We might just as well attempt to hold him responsible for thelooting of the bank and the loss of the pay-roll money. "

"Well, " said Grayson, "I give him thet horse 'cause I knew he couldn'tride, an' thet was the safest horse in the cavvy. I wisht I'd given himSanta Anna instid--I wouldn't a-minded losin' him. There won't no oneride him anyhow he's thet ornery. "

"The thing that surprises me most, " remarked the boss, "is that Brazosdoesn't come back. He was foaled on this range, and he's never beenridden anywhere else, has he?"

"He was foaled right here on this ranch, " Grayson corrected him, "andhe ain't never been more'n a hundred mile from it. If he ain't dead orstolen he'd a-ben back afore the bookkeeper was. It's almighty queer. "

"What sort of bookkeeper is Mr. Bridge?" asked the girl. 

"Oh, he's all right I guess, " replied Grayson grudgingly. "A feller'sgot to be some good at something. He's probably one of these herepaper-collar, cracker-fed college dudes thet don't know nothin' else'cept writin' in books. "

The girl rose, smiled, and moved away. 

"I like Mr. Bridge, anyhow, " she called back over her shoulder, "forwhatever he may not be he is certainly a well-bred gentleman, " whichspeech did not tend to raise Mr. Bridge in the estimation of thehard-fisted ranch foreman. 

"Funny them greasers don't come in from the north range with thet buncho' steers. They ben gone all day now, " he said to the boss, ignoring thegirl's parting sally. 

Bridge sat tip-tilted against the front of the office building readingan ancient magazine which he had found within. His day's work was doneand he was but waiting for the gong that would call him to the eveningmeal with the other employees of the ranch. The magazine failed to rousehis interest. He let it drop idly to his knees and with eyes closedreverted to his never-failing source of entertainment. 

 And then that slim, poetic guy he turned and looked me in the eye, ". . . . It's overland and overland and overseas to--where?" "Most anywhere that isn't here, " I says. His face went kind of queer. "The place we're in is always here. The other place is there. "

Bridge stretched luxuriously. "'There, '" he repeated. "I've beensearching for THERE for many years; but for some reason I can never getaway from HERE. About two weeks of any place on earth and that place isjust plain HERE to me, and I'm longing once again for THERE. "

His musings were interrupted by a sweet feminine voice close by. Bridgedid not open his eyes at once--he just sat there, listening. 

 As I was hiking past the woods, the cool and sleepy summer woods, I saw a guy a-talking to the sunshine in the air, Thinks I, "He's going to have a fit--I'll stick around and watch a bit, " But he paid no attention, hardly knowing I was there. 

Then the girl broke into a merry laugh and Bridge opened his eyes andcame to his feet. 

"I didn't know you cared for that sort of stuff, " he said. "Knibbswrites man-verse. I shouldn't have imagined that it would appeal to ayoung lady. "

"But it does, though, " she replied; "at least to me. There's a swing toit and a freedom that 'gets me in the eye. '"

Again she laughed, and when this girl laughed, harder-headed and mucholder men than Mr. L. Bridge felt strange emotions move within theirbreasts. 

For a week Barbara had seen a great deal of the new bookkeeper. Asidefrom her father he was the only man of culture and refinement of whichthe rancho could boast, or, as the rancho would have put it, be ashamedof. 

She had often sought the veranda of the little office and lured the newbookkeeper from his work, and on several occasions had had him at theranchhouse. Not only was he an interesting talker; but there was anelement of mystery about him which appealed to the girl's sense ofromance. 

She knew that he was a gentleman born and reared, and she often foundherself wondering what tragic train of circumstances had set him adriftamong the flotsam of humanity's wreckage. Too, the same persistentconviction that she had known him somewhere in the past that possessedher father clung to her mind; but she could not place him. 

"I overheard your dissertation on HERE AND THERE, " said the girl. "Icould not very well help it--it would have been rude to interrupt aconversation. " Her eyes sparkled mischievously and her cheeks dimpled. 

"You wouldn't have been interrupting a conversation, " objected Bridge, smiling; "you would have been turning a monologue into a conversation. "

"But it was a conversation, " insisted the girl. "The wanderer wasconversing with the bookkeeper. You are a victim of wanderlust, Mr. L. Bridge--don't deny it. You hate bookkeeping, or any other such prosaicvocation as requires permanent residence in one place. "

"Come now, " expostulated the man. "That is hardly fair. Haven't I beenhere a whole week?"

They both laughed. 

"What in the world can have induced you to remain so long?" criedBarbara. "How very much like an old timer you must feel--one of theoldest inhabitants. "

"I am a regular aborigine, " declared Bridge; but his heart would havechosen another reply. It would have been glad to tell the girl thatthere was a very real and a very growing inducement to remain at ElOrobo Rancho. The man was too self-controlled, however, to give way tothe impulses of his heart. 

At first he had just liked the girl, and been immensely glad of hercompanionship because there was so much that was common to them both--alove for good music, good pictures, and good literature--things Bridgehadn't had an opportunity to discuss with another for a long, long time. 

And slowly he had found delight in just sitting and looking at her. Hewas experienced enough to realize that this was a dangerous symptom, andso from the moment he had been forced to acknowledge it to himself hehad been very careful to guard his speech and his manner in the girl'spresence. 

He found pleasure in dreaming of what might have been as he sat watchingthe girl's changing expression as different moods possessed her; but asfor permitting a hope, even, of realization of his dreams--ah, he wasfar too practical for that, dreamer though he was. 

As the two talked Grayson passed. His rather stern face clouded as hesaw the girl and the new bookkeeper laughing there together. 

"Ain't you got nothin' to do?" he asked Bridge. 

"Yes, indeed, " replied the latter. 

"Then why don't you do it?" snapped Grayson. 

"I am, " said Bridge. 

"Mr. Bridge is entertaining me, " interrupted the girl, before Graysoncould make any rejoinder. "It is my fault--I took him from his work. Youdon't mind, do you, Mr. Grayson?"

Grayson mumbled an inarticulate reply and went his way. 

"Mr. Grayson does not seem particularly enthusiastic about me, " laughedBridge. 

"No, " replied the girl, candidly; "but I think it's just because youcan't ride. "

"Can't ride!" ejaculated Bridge. "Why, haven't I been riding ever sinceI came here?"

"Mr. Grayson doesn't consider anything in the way of equestrianismriding unless the ridden is perpetually seeking the life of the rider, "explained Barbara. "Just at present he is terribly put out because youlost Brazos. He says Brazos never stumbled in his life, and even if youhad fallen from his back he would have stood beside you waiting foryou to remount him. You see he was the kindest horse on theranch--especially picked for me to ride. However in the world DID youlose him, Mr. Bridge?"

The girl was looking full at the man as she propounded her query. Bridgewas silent. A faint flush overspread his face. He had not before knownthat the horse was hers. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, andhe wouldn't lie to her, so he made no reply. 

Barbara saw the flush and noted the man's silence. For the first timeher suspicions were aroused, yet she would not believe that this gentle, amiable drifter could be guilty of any crime greater than negligenceor carelessness. But why his evident embarrassment now? The girl wasmystified. For a moment or two they sat in silence, then Barbara rose. 

"I must run along back now, " she explained. "Papa will be wondering whathas become of me. "

"Yes, " said Bridge, and let her go. He would have been glad to tell herthe truth; but he couldn't do that without betraying Billy. He had heardenough to know that Francisco Villa had been so angered over the boldlooting of the bank in the face of a company of his own soldiers thathe would stop at nothing to secure the person of the thief once hisidentity was known. Bridge was perfectly satisfied with the ethics ofhis own act on the night of the bank robbery. He knew that the girlwould have applauded him, and that Grayson himself would have done whatBridge did had a like emergency confronted the ranch foreman; but tohave admitted complicity in the escape of the fugitive would have beento have exposed himself to the wrath of Villa, and at the same timerevealed the identity of the thief. "Nor, " thought Bridge, "would it getBrazos back for Barbara. "

It was after dark when the vaqueros Grayson had sent to the north rangereturned to the ranch. They came empty-handed and slowly for one of themsupported a wounded comrade on the saddle before him. They rode directlyto the office where Grayson and Bridge were going over some of thebusiness of the day, and when the former saw them his brow clouded forhe knew before he heard their story what had happened. 

"Who done it?" he asked, as the men filed into the office, half carryingthe wounded man. 

"Some of Pesita's followers, " replied Benito. 

"Did they git the steers, too?" inquired Grayson. 

"Part of them--we drove off most and scattered them. We saw the Brazospony, too, " and Benito looked from beneath heavy lashes in the directionof the bookkeeper. 

"Where?" asked Grayson. 

"One of Pesita's officers rode him--an Americano. Tony and I saw thissame man in Cuivaca the night the bank was robbed, and today he wasriding the Brazos pony. " Again the dark eyes turned toward Bridge. 

Grayson was quick to catch the significance of the Mexican's meaning. The more so as it was directly in line with suspicions which he himselfhad been nursing since the robbery. 

During the colloquy the boss entered the office. He had heard thereturning vaqueros ride into the ranch and noting that they brought nosteers with them had come to the office to hear their story. Barbara, spurred by curiosity, accompanied her father. 

"You heard what Benito says?" asked Grayson, turning toward hisemployer. 

The latter nodded. All eyes were upon Bridge. 

"Well, " snapped Grayson, "what you gotta say fer yourself? I bensuspectin' you right along. I knew derned well that that there Brazospony never run off by hisself. You an' that other crook from the Statesframed this whole thing up pretty slick, didn'tcha? Well, we'll--"

"Wait a moment, wait a moment, Grayson, " interrupted the boss. "GiveMr. Bridge a chance to explain. You're making a rather seriouscharge against him without any particularly strong proof to back youraccusation. "

"Oh, that's all right, " exclaimed Bridge, with a smile. "I have knownthat Mr. Grayson suspected me of implication in the robbery; but who canblame him--a man who can't ride might be guilty of almost anything. "

Grayson sniffed. Barbara took a step nearer Bridge. She had been readyto doubt him herself only an hour or so ago; but that was before he hadbeen accused. Now that she found others arrayed against him her impulsewas to come to his defense. 

"You didn't do it, did you, Mr. Bridge?" Her tone was almost pleading. 

"If you mean robbing the bank, " he replied; "I did not Miss Barbara. Iknew no more about it until after it was over than Benito or Tony--infact they were the ones who discovered it while I was still asleep in myroom above the bank. "

"Well, how did the robber git thet there Brazos pony then?" demandedGrayson savagely. "Thet's what I want to know. "

"You'll have to ask him, Mr. Grayson, " replied Bridge. 

"Villa'll ask him, when he gits holt of him, " snapped Grayson; "but Ireckon he'll git all the information out of you thet he wants first. He'll be in Cuivaca tomorrer, an' so will you. "

"You mean that you are going to turn me over to General Villa?" askedBridge. "You are going to turn an American over to that butcher knowingthat he'll be shot inside of twenty-four hours?"

"Shootin's too damned good fer a horse thief, " replied Grayson. 

Barbara turned impulsively toward her father. "You won't let Mr. Graysondo that?" she asked. 

"Mr. Grayson knows best how to handle such an affair as this, Barbara, "replied her father. "He is my superintendent, and I have made it a pointnever to interfere with him. "

"You will let Mr. Bridge be shot without making an effort to save him?"she demanded. 

"We do not know that he will be shot, " replied the ranch owner. "Ifhe is innocent there is no reason why he should be punished. If he isguilty of implication in the Cuivaca bank robbery he deserves, accordingto the rules of war, to die, for General Villa, I am told, considersthat a treasonable act. Some of the funds upon which his governmentdepends for munitions of war were there--they were stolen and turnedover to the enemies of Mexico. "

"And if we interfere we'll turn Villa against us, " interposed Grayson. "He ain't any too keen for Americans as it is. Why, if this fellow wasmy brother I'd hev to turn him over to the authorities. "

"Well, I thank God, " exclaimed Bridge fervently, "that in addition tobeing shot by Villa I don't have to endure the added disgrace of beingrelated to you, and I'm not so sure that I shall be hanged by Villa, "and with that he wiped the oil lamp from the table against which he hadbeen leaning, and leaped across the room for the doorway. 

Barbara and her father had been standing nearest the exit, and as thegirl realized the bold break for liberty the man was making, she pushedher father to one side and threw open the door. 

Bridge was through it in an instant, with a parting, "God bless you, little girl!" as he passed her. Then the door was closed with a bang. Barbara turned the key, withdrew it from the lock and threw it acrossthe darkened room. 

Grayson and the unwounded Mexicans leaped after the fugitive only tofind their way barred by the locked door. Outside Bridge ran to thehorses standing patiently with lowered heads awaiting the return oftheir masters. In an instant he was astride one of them, and lashing theothers ahead of him with a quirt he spurred away into the night. 

By the time Grayson and the Mexicans had wormed their way through one ofthe small windows of the office the new bookkeeper was beyond sight andearshot. 

As the ranch foreman was saddling up with several of his men in thecorral to give chase to the fugitive the boss strolled in and touchedhim on the arm. 

"Mr. Grayson, " he said, "I have made it a point never to interfere withyou; but I am going to ask you now not to pursue Mr. Bridge. I shallbe glad if he makes good his escape. Barbara was right--he is afellow-American. We cannot turn him over to Villa, or any other Mexicanto be murdered. "

Grumblingly Grayson unsaddled. "Ef you'd seen what I've seen aroundhere, " he said, "I guess you wouldn't be so keen to save this feller'shide. "

"What do you mean?" asked the boss. 

"I mean that he's ben tryin' to make love to your daughter. "

The older man laughed. "Don't be a fool, Grayson, " he said, and walkedaway. 

An hour later Barbara was strolling up and down before the ranchhousein the cool and refreshing air of the Chihuahua night. Her mind wasoccupied with disquieting reflections of the past few hours. Her pridewas immeasurably hurt by the part impulse had forced her to take in theaffair at the office. Not that she regretted that she had connived inthe escape of Bridge; but it was humiliating that a girl of her positionshould have been compelled to play so melodramatic a part before Graysonand his Mexican vaqueros. 

Then, too, was she disappointed in Bridge. She had looked upon him asa gentleman whom misfortune and wanderlust had reduced to the loweststratum of society. Now she feared that he belonged to that substratumwhich lies below the lowest which society recognizes as a part ofitself, and which is composed solely of the criminal class. 

It was hard for Barbara to realize that she had associated with athief--just for a moment it was hard, until recollection forced upon herthe unwelcome fact of the status of another whom she had known--to whomshe had given her love. The girl did not wince at the thought--insteadshe squared her shoulders and raised her chin. 

"I am proud of him, whatever he may have been, " she murmured; but shewas not thinking of the new bookkeeper. When she did think again ofBridge it was to be glad that he had escaped--"for he is an American, like myself. "

"Well!" exclaimed a voice behind her. "You played us a pretty trick, Miss Barbara. "

The girl turned to see Grayson approaching. To her surprise he seemed tohold no resentment whatsoever. She greeted him courteously. 

"I couldn't let you turn an American over to General Villa, " she said, "no matter what he had done. "

"I liked your spirit, " said the man. "You're the kind o' girl I benlookin' fer all my life--one with nerve an' grit, an' you got 'em both. You liked thet bookkeepin' critter, an' he wasn't half a man. I like youan' I am a man, ef I do say so myself. "

The girl drew back in astonishment. 

"Mr. Grayson!" she exclaimed. "You are forgetting yourself. "

"No I ain't, " he cried hoarsely. "I love you an' I'm goin' to have you. You'd love me too ef you knew me better. "

He took a step forward and grasped her arm, trying to draw her to him. The girl pushed him away with one hand, and with the other struck himacross the face. 

Grayson dropped her arm, and as he did so she drew herself to her fullheight and looked him straight in the eyes. 

"You may go now, " she said, her voice like ice. "I shall never speak ofthis to anyone--provided you never attempt to repeat it. "

The man made no reply. The blow in the face had cooled his ardortemporarily, but had it not also served another purpose?--to crystallizeit into a firm and inexorable resolve. 

When he had departed Barbara turned and entered the house. 

CHAPTER XII. BILLY TO THE RESCUE

IT WAS nearly ten o'clock the following morning when Barbara, sittingupon the veranda of the ranchhouse, saw her father approaching from thedirection of the office. His face wore a troubled expression which thegirl could not but note. 

"What's the matter, Papa?" she asked, as he sank into a chair at herside. 

"Your self-sacrifice of last evening was all to no avail, " he replied. "Bridge has been captured by Villistas. "

"What?" cried the girl. "You can't mean it--how did you learn?"

"Grayson just had a phone message from Cuivaca, " he explained. "Theyonly repaired the line yesterday since Pesita's men cut it last month. This was our first message. And do you know, Barbara, I can't helpfeeling sorry. I had hoped that he would get away. "

"So had I, " said the girl. 

Her father was eyeing her closely to note the effect of his announcementupon her; but he could see no greater concern reflected than that whichhe himself felt for a fellow-man and an American who was doomed to deathat the hands of an alien race, far from his own land and his own people. 

"Can nothing be done?" she asked. 

"Absolutely, " he replied with finality. "I have talked it over withGrayson and he assures me that an attempt at intervention upon our partmight tend to antagonize Villa, in which case we are all as good aslost. He is none too fond of us as it is, and Grayson believes, andnot without reason, that he would welcome the slightest pretext forwithdrawing the protection of his favor. Instantly he did that we shouldbecome the prey of every marauding band that infests the mountains. Notonly would Pesita swoop down upon us, but those companies of freebooterswhich acknowledge nominal loyalty to Villa would be about our ears in notime. No, dear, we may do nothing. The young man has made his bed, andnow I am afraid that he will have to lie in it alone. "

For awhile the girl sat in silence, and presently her father arose andentered the house. Shortly after she followed him, reappearing soonin riding togs and walking rapidly to the corrals. Here she found anAmerican cowboy busily engaged in whittling a stick as he sat upon anupturned cracker box and shot accurate streams of tobacco juice at acouple of industrious tumble bugs that had had the great impudence toroll their little ball of provender within the whittler's range. 

"O Eddie!" she cried. 

The man looked up, and was at once electrified into action. He sprangto his feet and whipped off his sombrero. A broad smile illumined hisfreckled face. 

"Yes, miss, " he answered. "What can I do for you?"

"Saddle a pony for me, Eddie, " she explained. "I want to take a littleride. "

"Sure!" he assured her cheerily. "Have it ready in a jiffy, " and awayhe went, uncoiling his riata, toward the little group of saddle ponieswhich stood in the corral against necessity for instant use. 

In a couple of minutes he came back leading one, which he tied to thecorral bars. 

"But I can't ride that horse, " exclaimed the girl. "He bucks. "

"Sure, " said Eddie. "I'm a-goin' to ride him. "

"Oh, are you going somewhere?" she asked. 

"I'm goin' with you, miss, " announced Eddie, sheepishly. 

"But I didn't ask you, Eddie, and I don't want you--today, " she urged. 

"Sorry, miss, " he threw back over his shoulder as he walked back to ropea second pony; "but them's orders. You're not to be allowed to ride noplace without a escort. 'Twouldn't be safe neither, miss, " he almostpleaded, "an' I won't hinder you none. I'll ride behind far enough to bethere ef I'm needed. "

Directly he came back with another pony, a sad-eyed, gentle-appearinglittle beast, and commenced saddling and bridling the two. 

"Will you promise, " she asked, after watching him in silence for a time, "that you will tell no one where I go or whom I see?"

"Cross my heart hope to die, " he assured her. 

"All right, Eddie, then I'll let you come with me, and you can ridebeside me, instead of behind. "

Across the flat they rode, following the windings of the river road, one mile, two, five, ten. Eddie had long since been wondering what thepurpose of so steady a pace could be. This was no pleasure ride whichtook the boss's daughter--"heifer, " Eddie would have called her--tenmiles up river at a hard trot. Eddie was worried, too. They had passedthe danger line, and were well within the stamping ground of Pesita andhis retainers. Here each little adobe dwelling, and they were scatteredat intervals of a mile or more along the river, contained a rabidpartisan of Pesita, or it contained no one--Pesita had seen to thislatter condition personally. 

At last the young lady drew rein before a squalid and dilapidated hut. Eddie gasped. It was Jose's, and Jose was a notorious scoundrel whom oldage alone kept from the active pursuit of the only calling he ever hadknown--brigandage. Why should the boss's daughter come to Jose? Jose washand in glove with every cutthroat in Chihuahua, or at least within aradius of two hundred miles of his abode. 

Barbara swung herself from the saddle, and handed her bridle reins toEddie. 

"Hold him, please, " she said. "I'll be gone but a moment. "

"You're not goin' in there to see old Jose alone?" gasped Eddie. 

"Why not?" she asked. "If you're afraid you can leave my horse and ridealong home. "

Eddie colored to the roots of his sandy hair, and kept silent. The girlapproached the doorway of the mean hovel and peered within. At one endsat a bent old man, smoking. He looked up as Barbara's figure darkenedthe doorway. 

"Jose!" said the girl. 

The old man rose to his feet and came toward her. 

"Eh? Senorita, eh?" he cackled. 

"You are Jose?" she asked. 

"Si, senorita, " replied the old Indian. "What can poor old Jose do toserve the beautiful senorita?"

"You can carry a message to one of Pesita's officers, " replied the girl. "I have heard much about you since I came to Mexico. I know that thereis not another man in this part of Chihuahua who may so easily reachPesita as you. " She raised her hand for silence as the Indian would haveprotested. Then she reached into the pocket of her riding breeches andwithdrew a handful of silver which she permitted to trickle, tinklingly, from one palm to the other. "I wish you to go to the camp of Pesita, "she continued, "and carry word to the man who robbed the bank atCuivaca--he is an American--that his friend, Senor Bridge has beencaptured by Villa and is being held for execution in Cuivaca. You mustgo at once--you must get word to Senor Bridge's friend so that help mayreach Senor Bridge before dawn. Do you understand?"

The Indian nodded assent. 

"Here, " said the girl, "is a payment on account. When I know that youdelivered the message in time you shall have as much more. Will you doit?"

"I will try, " said the Indian, and stretched forth a clawlike hand forthe money. 

"Good!" exclaimed Barbara. "Now start at once, " and she dropped thesilver coins into the old man's palm. 

It was dusk when Captain Billy Byrne was summoned to the tent of Pesita. There he found a weazened, old Indian squatting at the side of theoutlaw. 

"Jose, " said Pesita, "has word for you. "

Billy Byrne turned questioningly toward the Indian. 

"I have been sent, Senor Capitan, " explained Jose, "by the beautifulsenorita of El Orobo Rancho to tell you that your friend, Senor Bridge, has been captured by General Villa, and is being held at Cuivaca, wherehe will doubtless be shot--if help does not reach him before tomorrowmorning. "

Pesita was looking questioningly at Byrne. Since the gringo had returnedfrom Cuivaca with the loot of the bank and turned the last penny of itover to him the outlaw had looked upon his new captain as something justshort of superhuman. To have robbed the bank thus easily while Villa'ssoldiers paced back and forth before the doorway seemed little short ofan indication of miraculous powers, while to have turned the lootover intact to his chief, not asking for so much as a peso of it, wasabsolutely incredible. 

Pesita could not understand this man; but he admired him greatly andfeared him, too. Such a man was worth a hundred of the ordinary run ofhumanity that enlisted beneath Pesita's banners. Byrne had but to ask afavor to have it granted, and now, when he called upon Pesita tofurnish him with a suitable force for the rescue of Bridge the brigandenthusiastically acceded to his demands. 

"I will come, " he exclaimed, "and all my men shall ride with me. We willtake Cuivaca by storm. We may even capture Villa himself. "

"Wait a minute, bo, " interrupted Billy Byrne. "Don't get excited. I'mlookin' to get my pal outen' Cuivaca. After that I don't care whoyou capture; but I'm goin' to get Bridgie out first. I ken do it withtwenty-five men--if it ain't too late. Then, if you want to, you canshoot up the town. Lemme have the twenty-five, an' you hang around theedges with the rest of 'em 'til I'm done. Whaddaya say?"

Pesita was willing to agree to anything, and so it came that half anhour later Billy Byrne was leading a choice selection of some two dozencutthroats down through the hills toward Cuivaca. While a couple ofmiles in the rear followed Pesita with the balance of his band. 

Billy rode until the few remaining lights of Cuivaca shone but a shortdistance ahead and they could hear plainly the strains of a gratinggraphophone from beyond the open windows of a dance hall, and the voicesof the sentries as they called the hour. 

"Stay here, " said Billy to a sergeant at his side, "until you heara hoot owl cry three times from the direction of the barracks andguardhouse, then charge the opposite end of the town, firing off yourcarbines like hell an' yellin' yer heads off. Make all the racket youcan, an' keep it up 'til you get 'em comin' in your direction, see? Thenturn an' drop back slowly, eggin' 'em on, but holdin' 'em to it as longas you can. Do you get me, bo?"

From the mixture of Spanish and English and Granavenooish the sergeantgleaned enough of the intent of his commander to permit him to saluteand admit that he understood what was required of him. 

Having given his instructions Billy Byrne rode off to the west, circledCuivaca and came close up upon the southern edge of the little village. Here he dismounted and left his horse hidden behind an outbuilding, while he crept cautiously forward to reconnoiter. 

He knew that the force within the village had no reason to fear attack. Villa knew where the main bodies of his enemies lay, and that no forcecould approach Cuivaca without word of its coming reaching the garrisonmany hours in advance of the foe. That Pesita, or another of the severalbandit chiefs in the neighborhood would dare descend upon a garrisonedtown never for a moment entered the calculations of the rebel leader. 

For these reasons Billy argued that Cuivaca would be poorly guarded. Onthe night he had spent there he had seen sentries before the bank, theguardhouse, and the barracks in addition to one who paced to and fro infront of the house in which the commander of the garrison maintained hisheadquarters. Aside from these the town was unguarded. 

Nor were conditions different tonight. Billy came within a hundred yardsof the guardhouse before he discovered a sentinel. The fellow lolledupon his gun in front of the building--an adobe structure in the rearof the barracks. The other three sides of the guardhouse appeared to beunwatched. 

Billy threw himself upon his stomach and crawled slowly forward stoppingoften. The sentry seemed asleep. He did not move. Billy reached theshadow at the side of the structure and some fifty feet from the soldierwithout detection. Then he rose to his feet directly beneath a barredwindow. 

Within Bridge paced back and forth the length of the little building. Hecould not sleep. Tomorrow he was to be shot! Bridge did not wish to die. That very morning General Villa in person had examined him. The generalhad been exceedingly wroth--the sting of the theft of his funds stillirritated him; but he had given Bridge no inkling as to his fate. It hadremained for a fellow-prisoner to do that. This man, a deserter, was tobe shot, so he said, with Bridge, a fact which gave him an additionaltwenty-four hours of life, since, he asserted, General Villa wishedto be elsewhere than in Cuivaca when an American was executed. Thus hecould disclaim responsibility for the act. 

The general was to depart in the morning. Shortly after, Bridge and thedeserter would be led out and blindfolded before a stone wall--if therewas such a thing, or a brick wall, or an adobe wall. It made littledifference to the deserter, or to Bridge either. The wall was but atrivial factor. It might go far to add romance to whomever should readof the affair later; but in so far as Bridge and the deserter wereconcerned it meant nothing. A billboard, thought Bridge, bearingthe slogan: "Eventually! Why not now?" would have been equally asefficacious and far more appropriate. 

The room in which he was confined was stuffy with the odor ofaccumulated filth. Two small barred windows alone gave means ofventilation. He and the deserter were the only prisoners. The latterslept as soundly as though the morrow held nothing more momentous in hisdestiny than any of the days that had preceded it. Bridge was moved tokick the fellow into consciousness of his impending fate. Instead hewalked to the south window to fill his lungs with the free air beyondhis prison pen, and gaze sorrowfully at the star-lit sky which he shouldnever again behold. 

In a low tone Bridge crooned a snatch of the poem that he and Billyliked best:

 And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me, With buds of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth. 

Bridge's mental vision was concentrated upon the veranda of awhite-walled ranchhouse to the east. He shook his head angrily. 

"It's just as well, " he thought. "She's not for me. "

Something moved upon the ground beyond the window. Bridge becamesuddenly intent upon the thing. He saw it rise and resolve itself intothe figure of a man, and then, in a low whisper, came a familiar voice:

"There ain't no roses in my hair, but there's a barker in my shirt, an' another at me side. Here's one of 'em. They got kisses beat a cityblock. How's the door o' this thing fastened?" The speaker was quiteclose to the window now, his face but a few inches from Bridge's. 

"Billy!" ejaculated the condemned man. 

"Surest thing you know; but about the door?"

"Just a heavy bar on the outside, " replied Bridge. 

"Easy, " commented Billy, relieved. "Get ready to beat it when I openthe door. I got a pony south o' town that'll have to carry double for alittle way tonight. "

"God bless you, Billy!" whispered Bridge, fervently. 

"Lay low a few minutes, " said Billy, and moved away toward the rear ofthe guardhouse. 

A few minutes later there broke upon the night air the dismal hoot ofan owl. At intervals of a few seconds it was repeated twice. The sentrybefore the guardhouse shifted his position and looked about, then hesettled back, transferring his weight to the other foot, and resumed hisbovine meditations. 

The man at the rear of the guardhouse moved silently along the sideof the structure until he stood within a few feet of the unsuspectingsentinel, hidden from him by the corner of the building. A heavyrevolver dangled from his right hand. He held it loosely by the barrel, and waited. 

For five minutes the silence of the night was unbroken, then from theeast came a single shot, followed immediately by a scattering fusilladeand a chorus of hoarse cries. 

Billy Byrne smiled. The sentry resumed indications of quickness. Fromthe barracks beyond the guardhouse came sharp commands and the soundsof men running. From the opposite end of the town the noise of battlewelled up to ominous proportions. 

Billy heard the soldiers stream from their quarters and a moment latersaw them trot up the street at the double. Everyone was moving towardthe opposite end of the town except the lone sentinel before theguardhouse. The moment seemed propitious for his attempt. 

Billy peered around the corner of the guardhouse. Conditions werejust as he had pictured they would be. The sentry stood gazing in thedirection of the firing, his back toward the guardhouse door and Billy. 

With a bound the American cleared the space between himself and theunsuspecting and unfortunate soldier. The butt of the heavy revolverfell, almost noiselessly, upon the back of the sentry's head, and theman sank to the ground without even a moan. 

Turning to the door Billy knocked the bar from its place, the door swungin and Bridge slipped through to liberty. 

"Quick!" said Billy. "Follow me, " and turned at a rapid run toward thesouth edge of the town. He made no effort now to conceal his movements. Speed was the only essential, and the two covered the ground swiftly andopenly without any attempt to take advantage of cover. 

They reached Billy's horse unnoticed, and a moment later were trottingtoward the west to circle the town and regain the trail to the north andsafety. 

To the east they heard the diminishing rifle fire of the combatants asPesita's men fell steadily back before the defenders, and drew them awayfrom Cuivaca in accordance with Billy's plan. 

"Like takin' candy from a baby, " said Billy, when the flickering lightsof Cuivaca shone to the south of them, and the road ahead lay clear tothe rendezvous of the brigands. 

"Yes, " agreed Bridge; "but what I'd like to know, Billy, is how youfound out I was there. "

"Penelope, " said Byrne, laughing. 

"Penelope!" queried Bridge. "I'm not at all sure that I follow you, Billy. "

"Well, seein' as you're sittin' on behind you can't be leadin' me, "returned Billy; "but cuttin' the kid it was a skirt tipped it off to mewhere you was--the beautiful senorita of El Orobo Rancho, I think Josecalled her. Now are you hep?"

Bridge gave an exclamation of astonishment. "God bless her!" he said. "She did that for me?"

"She sure did, " Billy assured him, "an' I'll bet an iron case she'sa-waitin' for you there with buds o' roses in her hair an' kisses on hermouth, you old son-of-a-gun, you. " Billy laughed happily. He was happyanyway at having rescued Bridge, and the knowledge that his friend wasin love and that the girl reciprocated his affection--all of which Billyassumed as the only explanation of her interest in Bridge--only added tohis joy. "She ain't a greaser is she?" he asked presently. 

"I should say not, " replied Bridge. "She's a perfect queen from NewYork City; but, Billy, she's not for me. What she did was prompted by agenerous heart. She couldn't care for me, Billy. Her father is a wealthyman--he could have the pick of the land--of many lands--if she cared tomarry. You don't think for a minute she'd want a hobo, do you?"

"You can't most always tell, " replied Billy, a trifle sadly. "I knewsuch a queen once who would have chosen a mucker, if he'd a-let her. You're stuck on her, ol' man?"

"I'm afraid I am, Billy, " Bridge admitted; "but what's the use? Let'sforget it. Oh, say, is this the horse I let you take the night yourobbed the bank?"

"Yes, " said Billy; "same little pony, an' a mighty well-behaved one, too. Why?"

"It's hers, " said Bridge. 

"An' she wants it back?"

"She didn't say so; but I'd like to get it to her some way, " saidBridge. 

"You ride it back when you go, " suggested Billy. 

"But I can't go back, " said Bridge; "it was Grayson, the foreman, whomade it so hot for me I had to leave. He tried to arrest me and send meto Villa. "

"What for?" asked Billy. 

"He didn't like me, and wanted to get rid of me. " Bridge wouldn't saythat his relations with Billy had brought him into trouble. 

"Oh, well, I'll take it back myself then, and at the same time I'll tellPenelope what a regular fellow you are, and punch in the foreman's facefor good luck. "

"No, you mustn't go there. They know you now. It was some of El Orobo'smen you shot up day before yesterday when you took their steers fromthem. They recognized the pony, and one of them had seen you in Cuivacathe night of the robbery. They would be sure to get you, Billy. "

Shortly the two came in touch with the retreating Pesitistas who wereriding slowly toward their mountain camp. Their pursuers had long sincegiven up the chase, fearing that they might be being lured into themidst of a greatly superior force, and had returned to Cuivaca. 

It was nearly morning when Bridge and Billy threw themselves down uponthe latter's blankets, fagged. 

"Well, well, " murmured Billy Byrne; "li'l ol' Bridgie's found hisPenelope, " and fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XIII. BARBARA AGAIN

CAPTAIN BILLY BYRNE rode out of the hills the following afternoon upon apinto pony that showed the whites of its eyes in a wicked rim about theiris and kept its ears perpetually flattened backward. 

At the end of a lariat trailed the Brazos pony, for Billy, laughingaside Bridge's pleas, was on his way to El Orobo Rancho to return thestolen horse to its fair owner. 

At the moment of departure Pesita had asked Billy to ride by way ofJose's to instruct the old Indian that he should bear word to oneEsteban that Pesita required his presence. 

It is a long ride from the retreat of the Pesitistas to Jose's squalidhut, especially if one be leading an extra horse, and so it was thatdarkness had fallen long before Billy arrived in sight of Jose's. Dismounting some distance from the hut, Billy approached cautiously, since the world is filled with dangers for those who are beyond the law, and one may not be too careful. 

Billy could see a light showing through a small window, and towardthis he made his way. A short distance from Jose's is another, largerstructure from which the former inhabitants had fled the wrath ofPesita. It was dark and apparently tenantless; but as a matter of fact apair of eyes chanced at the very moment of Billy's coming to be lookingout through the open doorway. 

The owner turned and spoke to someone behind him. 

"Jose has another visitor, " he said. "Possibly this one is less harmlessthan the other. He comes with great caution. Let us investigate. "

Three other men rose from their blankets upon the floor and joined thespeaker. They were all armed, and clothed in the nondescript uniforms ofVillistas. Billy's back was toward them as they sneaked from the hut inwhich they were intending to spend the night and crept quietly towardhim. 

Billy was busily engaged in peering through the little window intothe interior of the old Indian's hovel. He saw an American in earnestconversation with Jose. Who could the man be? Billy did not recognizehim; but presently Jose answered the question. 

"It shall be done as you wish, Senor Grayson, " he said. 

"Ah!" thought Billy; "the foreman of El Orobo. I wonder what business hehas with this old scoundrel--and at night. "

What other thoughts Billy might have had upon the subject were rudelyinterrupted by four energetic gentlemen in his rear, who leaped upon himsimultaneously and dragged him to the ground. Billy made no outcry; buthe fought none the less strenuously for his freedom, and he fought afterthe manner of Grand Avenue, which is not a pretty, however effective, way it may be. 

But four against one when all the advantages lie with the four are heavyodds, and when Grayson and Jose ran out to investigate, and the ranchforeman added his weight to that of the others Billy was finallysubdued. That each of his antagonists would carry mementos of the battlefor many days was slight compensation for the loss of liberty. However, it was some. 

After disarming their captive and tying his hands at his back theyjerked him to his feet and examined him. 

"Who are you?" asked Grayson. "What you doin' sneakin' 'round spyin' onme, eh?"

"If you wanna know who I am, bo, " replied Billy, "go ask de HarlemHurricane, an' as fer spyin' on youse, I wasn't; but from de looks Iguess youse need spyin, yuh tinhorn. "

A pony whinnied a short distance from the hut. 

"That must be his horse, " said one of the Villistas, and walked away toinvestigate, returning shortly after with the pinto pony and Brazos. 

The moment Grayson saw the latter he gave an exclamation ofunderstanding. 

"I know him now, " he said. "You've made a good catch, Sergeant. Thisis the fellow who robbed the bank at Cuivaca. I recognize him from thedescriptions I've had of him, and the fact that he's got the Brazos ponymakes it a cinch. Villa oughter promote you for this. "

"Yep, " interjected Billy, "he orter make youse an admiral at least;but youse ain't got me home yet, an' it'll take more'n four Dagos an' atin-horn to do it. "

"They'll get you there all right, my friend, " Grayson assured him. "Nowcome along. "

They bundled Billy into his own saddle, and shortly after the littleparty was winding southward along the river in the direction of El OroboRancho, with the intention of putting up there for the balance of thenight where their prisoner could be properly secured and guarded. Asthey rode away from the dilapidated hut of the Indian the old man stoodsilhouetted against the rectangle of dim light which marked the opendoorway, and shook his fist at the back of the departing ranch foreman. 

"El cochino!" he cackled, and turned back into his hut. 

At El Orobo Rancho Barbara walked to and fro outside the ranchhouse. Within her father sat reading beneath the rays of an oil lamp. From thequarters of the men came the strains of guitar music, and an occasionalloud laugh indicated the climax of some of Eddie Shorter's famous Kansasfarmer stories. 

Barbara was upon the point of returning indoors when her attention wasattracted by the approach of a half-dozen horsemen. They reined into theranchyard and dismounted before the office building. Wondering a littlewho came so late, Barbara entered the house, mentioning casually to herfather that which she had just seen. 

The ranch owner, now always fearful of attack, was upon the pointof investigating when Grayson rode up to the veranda and dismounted. Barbara and her father were at the door as he ascended the steps. 

"Good news!" exclaimed the foreman. "I've got the bank robber, andBrazos, too. Caught the sneakin' coyote up to--up the river a bit. " Hehad almost said "Jose's;" but caught himself in time. "Someone's beencuttin' the wire at the north side of the north pasture, an' I wasridin' up to see ef I could catch 'em at it, " he explained. 

"He is an American?" asked the boss. 

"Looks like it; but he's got the heart of a greaser, " replied Grayson. "Some of Villa's men are with me, and they're a-goin' to take him toCuivaca tomorrow. "

Neither Barbara nor her father seemed to enthuse much. To them anAmerican was an American here in Mexico, where every hand was againsttheir race. That at home they might have looked with disgust upon thissame man did not alter their attitude here, that no American should takesides against his own people. Barbara said as much to Grayson. 

"Why this fellow's one of Pesita's officers, " exclaimed Grayson. "Hedon't deserve no sympathy from us nor from no other Americans. Pesitahas sworn to kill every American that falls into his hands, and thisfellow's with him to help him do it. He's a bad un. "

"I can't help what he may do, " insisted Barbara. "He's an American, andI for one would never be a party to his death at the hands of a Mexican, and it will mean death to him to be taken to Cuivaca. "

"Well, miss, " said Grayson, "you won't hev to be responsible--I'll takeall the responsibility there is and welcome. I just thought you'd liketo know we had him. " He was addressing his employer. The latter nodded, and Grayson turned and left the room. Outside he cast a sneering laughback over his shoulder and swung into his saddle. 

In front of the men's quarters he drew rein again and shouted Eddie'sname. Shorter came to the door. 

"Get your six-shooter an' a rifle, an' come on over to the office. Iwant to see you a minute. "

Eddie did as he was bid, and when he entered the little room he saw fourMexicans lolling about smoking cigarettes while Grayson stood beforea chair in which sat a man with his arms tied behind his back. Graysonturned to Eddie. 

"This party here is the slick un that robbed the bank, and got awayon thet there Brazos pony thet miserable bookkeepin' dude giv him. Thesergeant here an' his men are a-goin' to take him to Cuivaca in themornin'. You stand guard over him 'til midnight, then they'll relieveyou. They gotta get a little sleep first, though, an' I gotta getsome supper. Don't stand fer no funny business now, Eddie, " Graysonadmonished him, and was on the point of leaving the office when athought occurred to him. "Say, Shorter, " he said, "they ain't no wayof gettin' out of the little bedroom in back there except through thisroom. The windows are too small fer a big man to get through. I'll tellyou what, we'll lock him up in there an' then you won't hev to worrynone an' neither will we. You can jest spread out them Navajos there andgo to sleep right plump ag'in the door, an' there won't nobody hev torelieve you all night. "

"Sure, " said Eddie, "leave it to me--I'll watch the slicker. "

Satisfied that their prisoner was safe for the night the Villistas andGrayson departed, after seeing him safely locked in the back room. 

At the mention by the foreman of his guard's names--Eddie andShorter--Billy had studied the face of the young American cowpuncher, for the two names had aroused within his memory a tantalizing suggestionthat they should be very familiar. Yet he could connect them in no waywith anyone he had known in the past and he was quite sure that he neverbefore had set eyes upon this man. 

Sitting in the dark with nothing to occupy him Billy let his mind dwellupon the identity of his jailer, until, as may have happened to you, nothing in the whole world seemed equally as important as the solutionof the mystery. Even his impending fate faded into nothingness bycomparison with the momentous question as to where he had heard the nameEddie Shorter before. 

As he sat puzzling his brain over the inconsequential matter somethingstirred upon the floor close to his feet, and presently he jerked back abooted foot that a rat had commenced to gnaw upon. 

"Helluva place to stick a guy, " mused Billy, "in wit a bunch o'man-eatin' rats. Hey!" and he turned his face toward the door. "You, Eddie! Come here!"

Eddie approached the door and listened. 

"Wot do you want?" he asked. "None o' your funny business, you know. I'mfrom Shawnee, Kansas, I am, an' they don't come no slicker from nowhereon earth. You can't fool me. "

Shawnee, Kansas! Eddie Shorter! The whole puzzle was cleared in Billy'smind in an instant. 

"So you're Eddie Shorter of Shawnee, Kansas, are you?" called Billy. "Well I know your maw, Eddie, an' ef I had such a maw as you got Iwouldn't be down here wastin' my time workin' alongside a lot of Dagos;but that ain't what I started out to say, which was that I want alight in here. The damned rats are tryin' to chaw off me kicks an' whenthey're done wit them they'll climb up after me an' old man Villa'll besore as a pup. "

"You know my maw?" asked Eddie, and there was a wistful note in hisvoice. "Aw shucks! you don't know her--that's jest some o' your funny, slicker business. You wanna git me in there an' then you'll try an'git aroun' me some sort o' way to let you escape; but I'm too slick forthat. "

"On the level Eddie, I know your maw, " persisted Billy. "I ben in yourmaw's house jest a few weeks ago. 'Member the horsehair sofa between thewindows? 'Member the Bible on the little marble-topped table? Eh? An'Tige? Well, Tige's croaked; but your maw an' your paw ain't an' theywant you back, Eddie. I don't care ef you believe me, son, or not; butyour maw was mighty good to me, an' you promise me you'll write her an'then go back home as fast as you can. It ain't everybody's got a swellmaw like that, an' them as has ought to be good to 'em. "

Beyond the closed door Eddie's jaw was commencing to tremble. Memorywas flooding his heart and his eyes with sweet recollections of an amplebreast where he used to pillow his head, of a big capable hand that waswont to smooth his brow and stroke back his red hair. Eddie gulped. 

"You ain't joshin' me?" he asked. Billy Byrne caught the tremor in thevoice. 

"I ain't kiddin' you son, " he said. "Wotinell do you take me fer--one o'these greasy Dagos? You an' I're Americans--I wouldn't string a home guydown here in this here Godforsaken neck o' the woods. "

Billy heard the lock turn, and a moment later the door was cautiouslyopened revealing Eddie safely ensconced behind two six-shooters. 

"That's right, Eddie, " said Billy, with a laugh. "Don't you take nochances, no matter how much sob stuff I hand you, fer, I'll give it toyou straight, ef I get the chanct I'll make my get-away; but I can't doit wit my flippers trussed, an' you wit a brace of gats sittin' on me. Let's have a light, Eddie. That won't do nobody any harm, an' it maydiscourage the rats. "

Eddie backed across the office to a table where stood a small lamp. Keeping an eye through the door on his prisoner he lighted the lamp andcarried it into the back room, setting it upon a commode which stood inone corner. 

"You really seen maw?" he asked. "Is she well?"

"Looked well when I seen her, " said Billy; "but she wants her boy backa whole lot. I guess she'd look better still ef he walked in on her someday. "

"I'll do it, " cried Eddie. "The minute they get money for the pay I'llhike. Tell me your name. I'll ask her ef she remembers you when I gethome. Gee! but I wish I was walkin' in the front door now. "

"She never knew my name, " said Billy; "but you tell her you seen the bothat mussed up the two yeggmen who rolled her an' were tryin' to croakher wit a butcher knife. I guess she ain't fergot. Me an' my pal werebeatin' it--he was on the square but the dicks was after me an' she letus have money to make our get-away. She's all right, kid. "

There came a knock at the outer office door. Eddie sprang back intothe front room, closing and locking the door after him, just as Barbaraentered. 

"Eddie, " she asked, "may I see the prisoner? I want to talk to him. "

"You want to talk with a bank robber?" exclaimed Eddie. "Why you ain'tcrazy are you, Miss Barbara?"

"No, I'm not crazy; but I want to speak with him alone for just amoment, Eddie--please. "

Eddie hesitated. He knew that Grayson would be angry if he let theboss's daughter into that back room alone with an outlaw and a robber, and the boss himself would probably be inclined to have Eddie drawn andquartered; but it was hard to refuse Miss Barbara anything. 

"Where is he?" she asked. 

Eddie jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. The key still was inthe lock. 

"Go to the window and look at the moon, Eddie, " suggested the girl. "It's perfectly gorgeous tonight. Please, Eddie, " as he still hesitated. 

Eddie shook his head and moved slowly toward the window. 

"There can't nobody refuse you nothin', miss, " he said; "'specially whenyou got your heart set on it. "

"That's a dear, Eddie, " purred the girl, and moved swiftly across theroom to the locked door. 

As she turned the key in the lock she felt a little shiver of nervousexcitement run through her. "What sort of man would he be--this hardenedoutlaw and robber--this renegade American who had cast his lot with theavowed enemies of his own people?" she wondered. 

Only her desire to learn of Bridge's fate urged her to attempt sodistasteful an interview; but she dared not ask another to putthe question for her, since should her complicity in Bridge'sescape--provided of course that he had escaped--become known to Villathe fate of the Americans at El Orobo would be definitely sealed. 

She turned the knob and pushed the door open, slowly. A man was sittingin a chair in the center of the room. His back was toward her. He was abig man. His broad shoulders loomed immense above the back of the rudechair. A shock of black hair, rumpled and tousled, covered a well-shapedhead. 

At the sound of the door creaking upon its hinges he turned his face inher direction, and as his eyes met hers all four went wide in surpriseand incredulity. 

"Billy!" she cried. 

"Barbara!--you?" and Billy rose to his feet, his bound hands strugglingto be free. 

The girl closed the door behind her and crossed to him. 

"You robbed the bank, Billy?" she asked. "It was you, after the promisesyou made me to live straight always--for my sake?" Her voice trembledwith emotion. The man could see that she suffered, and yet he felt hisown anguish, too. 

"But you are married, " he said. "I saw it in the papers. What do youcare, now, Barbara? I'm nothing to you. "

"I'm not married, Billy, " she cried. "I couldn't marry Mr. Mallory. Itried to make myself believe that I could; but at last I knew that I didnot love him and never could, and I wouldn't marry a man I didn't love. 

"I never dreamed that it was you here, Billy, " she went on. "I came toask you about Mr. Bridge. I wanted to know if he escaped, or if--if--oh, this awful country! They think no more of human life here than a butcherthinks of the life of the animal he dresses. "

A sudden light illumined Billy's mind. Why had it not occurred to himbefore? This was Bridge's Penelope! The woman he loved was loved by hisbest friend. And she had sent a messenger to him, to Billy, to save herlover. She had come here to the office tonight to question a stranger--aman she thought an outlaw and a robber--because she could not restwithout word from the man she loved. Billy stiffened. He was hurt to thebottom of his heart; but he did not blame Bridge--it was fate. Nor didhe blame Barbara because she loved Bridge. Bridge was more her kindanyway. He was a college guy. Billy was only a mucker. 

"Bridge got away all right, " he said. "And say, he didn't have nothin'to do with pullin' off that safe crackin'. I done it myself. He didn'tknow I was in town an' I didn't know he was there. He's the squarest guyin the world, Bridge is. He follered me that night an' took a shot atme, thinkin' I was the robber all right but not knowin' I was me. Hegot my horse, an' when he found it was me, he made me take your pony an'make my get-away, fer he knew Villa's men would croak me sure if theycaught me. You can't blame him fer that, can you? Him an' I were goodpals--he couldn't do nothin' else. It was him that made me bring yourpony back to you. It's in the corral now, I reckon. I was a-bringin' itback when they got me. Now you better go. This ain't no place fer you, an' I ain't had no sleep fer so long I'm most dead. " His tones werecool. He appeared bored by her company; though as a matter of facthis heart was breaking with love for her--love that he believedunrequited--and he yearned to tear loose his bonds and crush her in hisarms. 

It was Barbara's turn now to be hurt. She drew herself up. 

"I am sorry that I have disturbed your rest, " she said, and walked away, her head in the air; but all the way back to the ranchhouse she keptrepeating over and over to herself: "Tomorrow they will shoot him!Tomorrow they will shoot him! Tomorrow they will shoot him!"

CHAPTER XIV. 'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY

FOR an hour Barbara Harding paced the veranda of the ranchhouse, prideand love battling for the ascendency within her breast. She could notlet him die, that she knew; but how might she save him?

The strains of music and the laughter from the bunkhouse had ceased. Theranch slept. Over the brow of the low bluff upon the opposite side ofthe river a little party of silent horsemen filed downward to the ford. At the bluff's foot a barbed-wire fence marked the eastern boundary ofthe ranch's enclosed fields. The foremost horseman dismounted and cutthe strands of wire, carrying them to one side from the path of the feetof the horses which now passed through the opening he had made. 

Down into the river they rode following the ford even in the darknesswith an assurance which indicated long familiarity. Then through afringe of willows out across a meadow toward the ranch buildingsthe riders made their way. The manner of their approach, their uttersilence, the hour, all contributed toward the sinister. 

Upon the veranda of the ranchhouse Barbara Harding came to a suddenhalt. Her entire manner indicated final decision, and determination. Amoment she stood in thought and then ran quickly down the steps and inthe direction of the office. Here she found Eddie dozing at his post. She did not disturb him. A glance through the window satisfied her thathe was alone with the prisoner. From the office building Barbara passedon to the corral. A few horses stood within the enclosure, their headsdrooping dejectedly. As she entered they raised their muzzles andsniffed suspiciously, ears a-cock, and as the girl approached closerto them they moved warily away, snorting, and passed around her to theopposite side of the corral. As they moved by her she scrutinized themand her heart dropped, for Brazos was not among them. He must have beenturned out into the pasture. 

She passed over to the bars that closed the opening from the corral intothe pasture and wormed her way between two of them. A hackamore with apiece of halter rope attached to it hung across the upper bar. Taking itdown she moved off across the pasture in the direction the saddle horsesmost often took when liberated from the corral. 

If they had not crossed the river she felt that she might find and catchBrazos, for lumps of sugar and bits of bread had inspired in his equinesoul a wondrous attachment for his temporary mistress. 

Down the beaten trail the animals had made to the river the girlhurried, her eyes penetrating the darkness ahead and to either hand forthe looming bulks that would be the horses she sought, and among whichshe might hope to discover the gentle little Brazos. 

The nearer she came to the river the lower dropped her spirits, for asyet no sign of the animals was to be seen. To have attempted to place ahackamore upon any of the wild creatures in the corral would have beenthe height of foolishness--only a well-sped riata in the hands of astrong man could have captured one of these. 

Closer and closer to the fringe of willows along the river she came, until, at their very edge, there broke upon her already taut nerves thehideous and uncanny scream of a wildcat. The girl stopped short inher tracks. She felt the chill of fear creep through her skin, and atwitching at the roots of her hair evidenced to her the extremity of herterror. Should she turn back? The horses might be between her and theriver, but judgment told her that they had crossed. Should she brave thenervous fright of a passage through that dark, forbidding labyrinth ofgloom when she knew that she should not find the horses within reachbeyond?

She turned to retrace her steps. She must find another way!

But was there another way? And "Tomorrow they will shoot him!" Sheshuddered, bit her lower lip in an effort to command her courage, andthen, wheeling, plunged into the thicket. 

Again the cat screamed--close by--but the girl never hesitated in heradvance, and a few moments later she broke through the willows a dozenpaces from the river bank. Her eyes strained through the night; but nohorses were to be seen. 

The trail, cut by the hoofs of many animals, ran deep and straight downinto the swirling water. Upon the opposite side Brazos must be feedingor resting, just beyond reach. 

Barbara dug her nails into her palms in the bitterness of herdisappointment. She followed down to the very edge of the water. Itwas black and forbidding. Even in the daytime she would not have beenconfident of following the ford--by night it would be madness to attemptit. 

She choked down a sob. Her shoulders drooped. Her head bent forward. Shewas the picture of disappointment and despair. 

"What can I do?" she moaned. "Tomorrow they will shoot him!"

The thought seemed to electrify her. 

"They shall not shoot him!" she cried aloud. "They shall not shoot himwhile I live to prevent it!"

Again her head was up and her shoulders squared. Tying the hackamoreabout her waist, she took a single deep breath of reassurance andstepped out into the river. For a dozen paces she found no difficulty infollowing the ford. It was broad and straight; but toward the centerof the river, as she felt her way along a step at a time, she came to aplace where directly before her the ledge upon which she crossed shelvedoff into deep water. She turned upward, trying to locate the directionof the new turn; but here too there was no footing. Down river shefelt solid rock beneath her feet. Ah! this was the way, and boldly shestepped out, the water already above her knees. Two, three steps shetook, and with each one her confidence and hope arose, and then thefourth step--and there was no footing. She felt herself lunging into thestream, and tried to draw back and regain the ledge; but the force ofthe current was too much for her, and, so suddenly it seemed that shehad thrown herself in, she was in the channel swimming for her life. 

The trend of the current there was back in the direction of the bank shehad but just quitted, yet so strong was her determination to succeed forBilly Byrne's sake that she turned her face toward the opposite shoreand fought to reach the seemingly impossible goal which love had set forher. Again and again she was swept under by the force of the current. Again and again she rose and battled, not for her own life; but forthe life of the man she once had loathed and whom she later had come tolove. Inch by inch she won toward the shore of her desire, and inch byinch of her progress she felt her strength failing. Could she win? Ah!if she were but a man, and with the thought came another: Thank God thatI am a woman with a woman's love which gives strength to drive me intothe clutches of death for his sake!

Her heart thundered in tumultuous protest against the strain of herpanting lungs. Her limbs felt cold and numb; but she could not giveup even though she was now convinced that she had thrown her life awayuselessly. They would find her body; but no one would ever guess whathad driven her to her death. Not even he would know that it was forhis sake. And then she felt the tugging of the channel current suddenlylessen, an eddy carried her gently inshore, her feet touched the sandand gravel of the bottom. 

Gasping for breath, staggering, stumbling, she reeled on a few pacesand then slipped down clutching at the river's bank. Here the water wasshallow, and here she lay until her strength returned. Then she urgedherself up and onward, climbed to the top of the bank with success atlast within reach. 

To find the horses now required but a few minutes' search. They stoodhuddled in a black mass close to the barbed-wire fence at the extremityof the pasture. As she approached them they commenced to separateslowly, edging away while they faced her in curiosity. Softly shecalled: "Brazos! Come, Brazos!" until a unit of the moving mass detacheditself and came toward her, nickering. 

"Good Brazos!" she cooed. "That's a good pony, " and walked forward tomeet him. 

The animal let her reach up and stroke his forehead, while he muzzledabout her for the expected tidbit. Gently she worked the hackamoreover his nose and above his ears, and when it was safely in place shebreathed a deep sigh of relief and throwing her arms about his neckpressed her cheek to his. 

"You dear old Brazos, " she whispered. 

The horse stood quietly while the girl wriggled herself to his back, and then at a word and a touch from her heels moved off at a walk in thedirection of the ford. The crossing this time was one of infinite ease, for Barbara let the rope lie loose and Brazos take his own way. 

Through the willows upon the opposite bank he shouldered his path, across the meadow still at a walk, lest they arouse attention, andthrough a gate which led directly from the meadow into the ranchyard. Here she tied him to the outside of the corral, while she went in searchof saddle and bridle. Whose she took she did not know, nor care, butthat the saddle was enormously heavy she was perfectly aware long beforeshe had dragged it halfway to where Brazos stood. 

Three times she essayed to lift it to his back before she succeeded inaccomplishing the Herculean task, and had it been any other horse uponthe ranch than Brazos the thing could never have been done; but thekindly little pony stood in statuesque resignation while the heavyMexican tree was banged and thumped against his legs and ribs, until alucky swing carried it to his wethers. 

Saddled and bridled Barbara led him to the rear of the building andthus, by a roundabout way, to the back of the office building. Here shecould see a light in the room in which Billy was confined, and afterdropping the bridle reins to the ground she made her way to the front ofthe structure. 

Creeping stealthily to the porch she peered in at the window. Eddie wasstretched out in cramped though seeming luxury in an office chair. His feet were cocked up on the desk before him. In his lap lay hissix-shooter ready for any emergency. Another reposed in its holster athis belt. 

Barbara tiptoed to the door. Holding her breath she turned the knobgently. The door swung open without a sound, and an instant later shestood within the room. Again her eyes were fixed upon Eddie Shorter. She saw his nerveless fingers relax their hold upon the grip of hisrevolver. She saw the weapon slip farther down into his lap. He did notmove, other than to the deep and regular breathing of profound slumber. 

Barbara crossed the room to his side. 

Behind the ranchhouse three figures crept forward in the shadows. Behindthem a matter of a hundred yards stood a little clump of horses and withthem were the figures of more men. These waited in silence. The otherthree crept toward the house. It was such a ranchhouse as you might findby the scores or hundreds throughout Texas. Grayson, evidently, or someother Texan, had designed it. There was nothing Mexican about it, noranything beautiful. It stood two storied, verandaed and hideous, a blotupon the soil of picturesque Mexico. 

To the roof of the veranda clambered the three prowlers, and across itto an open window. The window belonged to the bedroom of Miss BarbaraHarding. Here they paused and listened, then two of them entered theroom. They were gone for but a few minutes. When they emerged theyshowed evidences, by their gestures to the third man who had awaitedoutside, of disgust and disappointment. 

Cautiously they descended as they had come and made their way back tothose other men who had remained with the horses. Here there ensued alow-toned conference, and while it progressed Barbara Harding reachedforth a steady hand which belied the terror in her soul and plucked therevolver from Eddie Shorter's lap. Eddie slept on. 

Again on tiptoe the girl recrossed the office to the locked door leadinginto the back room. The key was in the lock. Gingerly she turned it, keeping a furtive eye upon the sleeping guard, and the muzzle of his ownrevolver leveled menacingly upon him. Eddie Shorter stirred in his sleepand raised a hand to his face. The heart of Barbara Harding ceased tobeat while she stood waiting for the man to open his eyes and discoverher; but he did nothing of the kind. Instead his hand dropped limply athis side and he resumed his regular breathing. 

The key turned in the lock beneath the gentle pressure of her fingers, the bolt slipped quietly back and she pushed the door ajar. Within, Billy Byrne turned inquiring eyes in the direction of the opening door, and as he saw who it was who entered surprise showed upon his face; buthe spoke no word for the girl held a silencing finger to her lips. 

Quickly she came to his side and motioned him to rise while she tuggedat the knots which held the bonds in place about his arms. Once shestopped long enough to recross the room and close the door which she hadleft open when she entered. 

It required fully five minutes--the longest five minutes of BarbaraHarding's life, she thought--before the knots gave to her efforts; butat last the rope fell to the floor and Billy Byrne was free. 

He started to speak, to thank her, and, perhaps, to scold her for therash thing she had undertaken for him; but she silenced him again, andwith a whispered, "Come!" turned toward the door. 

As she opened it a crack to reconnoiter she kept the revolver pointedstraight ahead of her into the adjoining room. Eddie, however, stillslept on in peaceful ignorance of the trick which was being played uponhim. 

Now the two started forward for the door which opened from the officeupon the porch, and as they did so Barbara turned again toward Billyto caution him to silence for his spurs had tinkled as he moved. For amoment their eyes were not upon Eddie Shorter and Fate had it that atthat very moment Eddie awoke and opened his own eyes. 

The sight that met them was so astonishing that for a second the Kansancould not move. He saw Barbara Harding, a revolver in her hand, aiding the outlaw to escape, and in the instant that surprise kept himmotionless Eddie saw, too, another picture--the picture of a motherlywoman in a little farmhouse back in Kansas, and Eddie realized that thisman, this outlaw, had been the means of arousing within him a desire anda determination to return again to those loving arms. Too, the man hadsaved his mother from injury, and possible death. 

Eddie shut his eyes quickly and thought hard and fast. Miss Barbarahad always been kind to him. In his boyish heart he had loved her, hopelessly of course, in a boyish way. She wanted the outlaw to escape. Eddie realized that he would do anything that Miss Barbara wanted, evenif he had to risk his life at it. 

The girl and the man were at the door. She pushed him through ahead ofher while she kept the revolver leveled upon Eddie, then she passed outafter him and closed the door, while Eddie Shorter kept his eyes tightlyclosed and prayed to his God that Billy Byrne might get safely away. 

Outside and in the rear of the office building Barbara pressed therevolver upon Billy. 

"You will need it, " she said. "There is Brazos--take him. God bless andguard you, Billy!" and she was gone. 

Billy swallowed bard. He wanted to run after her and take her in hisarms; but he recalled Bridge, and with a sigh turned toward the patientBrazos. Languidly he gathered up the reins and mounted, and thenunconcernedly as though he were an honored guest departing by daylighthe rode out of the ranchyard and turned Brazos' head north up the riverroad. 

And as Billy disappeared in the darkness toward the north BarbaraHarding walked slowly toward the ranchhouse, while from a little groupof men and horses a hundred yards away three men detached themselvesand crept toward her, for they had seen her in the moonlight as she leftBilly outside the office and strolled slowly in the direction of thehouse. 

They hid in the shadow at the side of the house until the girl hadturned the corner and was approaching the veranda, then they ran quicklyforward and as she mounted the steps she was seized from behind anddragged backward. A hand was clapped over her mouth and a whisperedthreat warned her to silence. 

Half dragging and half carrying her the three men bore her back to wheretheir confederates awaited them. A huge fellow mounted his pony andBarbara was lifted to the horn of the saddle before him. Then the othersmounted and as silently as they had come they rode away, following thesame path. 

Barbara Harding had not cried out nor attempted to, for she had seenvery shortly after her capture that she was in the hands of Indians andshe judged from what she had heard of the little band of Pimans who heldforth in the mountains to the east that they would as gladly knife heras not. 

Jose was a Piman, and she immediately connected Jose with theperpetration, or at least the planning of her abduction. Thus she feltassured that no harm would come to her, since Jose had been famous inhis time for the number and size of the ransoms he had collected. 

Her father would pay what was demanded, she would be returned and, asidefrom a few days of discomfort and hardship, she would be none the worseoff for her experience. Reasoning thus it was not difficult to maintainher composure and presence of mind. 

As Barbara was borne toward the east, Billy Byrne rode steadilynorthward. It was his intention to stop at Jose's hut and deliver themessage which Pesita had given him for the old Indian. Then he woulddisappear into the mountains to the west, join Pesita and urge a newraid upon some favored friend of General Francisco Villa, for Billy hadno love for Villa. 

He should have been glad to pay his respects to El Orobo Rancho andits foreman; but the fact that Anthony Harding owned it and that he andBarbara were there was sufficient effectually to banish all thoughts ofrevenge along that line. 

"Maybe I can get his goat later, " he thought, "when he's away from theranch. I don't like that stiff, anyhow. He orter been a harness bull. "

It was four o'clock in the morning when Billy dismounted in front ofJose's hut. He pounded on the door until the man came and opened it. 

"Eh!" exclaimed Jose as he saw who his early morning visitor was, "yougot away from them. Fine!" and the old man chuckled. "I send word toPesita two, four hours ago that Villistas capture Capitan Byrne and takehim to Cuivaca. "

"Thanks, " said Billy. "Pesita wants you to send Esteban to him. I didn'thave no chance to tell you last night while them pikers was stickin'aroun', so I stops now on my way back to the hills. "

"I will send Esteban tonight if I can get him; but I do not know. Esteban is working for the pig, Grayson. "

"Wot's he doin' fer Grayson?" asked Billy. "And what was the Graysonguy doin' up here with you, Jose? Ain't you gettin' pretty thick withPesita's enemies?"

"Jose good friends everybody, " and the old man grinned. "Grayson havea job he want good men for. Jose furnish men. Grayson pay well. Jobgot nothin' do Pesita, Villa, Carranza, revolution--just private job. Grayson want senorita. He pay to get her. That all. "

"Oh, " said Billy, and yawned. He was not interested in Mr. Grayson'samours. "Why didn't the poor boob go get her himself?" he inquireddisinterestedly. "He must be a yap to hire a bunch o' guys to go cop offa siwash girl fer him. "

"It is not a siwash girl, Senor Capitan, " said Jose. "It is onebeautiful senorita--the daughter of the owner of El Orobo Rancho. "

"What?" cried Billy Byrne. "What's that you say?"

"Yes, Senor Capitan, what of it?" inquired Jose. "Grayson he pay mefurnish the men. Esteban he go with his warriors. I get Esteban. They gotonight take away the senorita; but not for Grayson, " and the old fellowlaughed. "I can no help can I? Grayson pay me money get men. I get them. I no help if they keep girl, " and he shrugged. 

"They're comin' for her tonight?" cried Billy. 

"Si, senor, " replied Jose. "Doubtless they already take her. "

"Hell!" muttered Billy Byrne, as he swung Brazos about so quickly thatthe little pony pivoted upon his hind legs and dashed away toward thesouth over the same trail he had just traversed. 

CHAPTER XV. AN INDIAN'S TREACHERY

THE Brazos pony had traveled far that day but for only a trifle over tenmiles had he carried a rider upon his back. He was, consequently, farfrom fagged as he leaped forward to the lifted reins and tore along thedusty river trail back in the direction of Orobo. 

Never before had Brazos covered ten miles in so short a time, for it wasnot yet five o'clock when, reeling with fatigue, he stopped, staggeredand fell in front of the office building at El Orobo. 

Eddie Shorter had sat in the chair as Barbara and Billy had last seenhim waiting until Byrne should have an ample start before arousingGrayson and reporting the prisoner's escape. Eddie had determined thathe would give Billy an hour. He grinned as he anticipated the rage ofGrayson and the Villistas when they learned that their bird had flown, and as he mused and waited he fell asleep. 

It was broad daylight when Eddie awoke, and as he looked up at thelittle clock ticking against the wall, and saw the time he gave anexclamation of surprise and leaped to his feet. Just as he opened theouter door of the office he saw a horseman leap from a winded ponyin front of the building. He saw the animal collapse and sink to theground, and then he recognized the pony as Brazos, and another glance atthe man brought recognition of him, too. 

"You?" cried Eddie. "What are you doin' back here? I gotta take younow, " and he started to draw his revolver; but Billy Byrne had himcovered before ever his hand reached the grip of his gun. 

"Put 'em up!" admonished Billy, "and listen to me. This ain't no timefer gunplay or no such foolishness. I ain't back here to be took--getthat out o' your nut. I'm tipped off that a bunch o' siwashes was downhere last night to swipe Miss Harding. Come! We gotta go see if she'shere or not, an' don't try any funny business on me, Eddie. I ain'ta-goin' to be taken again, an' whoever tries it gets his, see?"

Eddie was down off the porch in an instant, and making for theranchhouse. 

"I'm with you, " he said. "Who told you? And who done it?"

"Never mind who told me; but a siwash named Esteban was to pull thething off for Grayson. Grayson wanted Miss Harding an' he was goin' tohave her stolen for him. "

"The hound!" muttered Eddie. 

The two men dashed up onto the veranda of the ranchhouse and pounded atthe door until a Chinaman opened it and stuck out his head, inquiringly. 

"Is Miss Harding here?" demanded Billy. 

"Mlissy Hardie Kleep, " snapped the servant. "Wally wanee here floblekfas?", and would have shut the door in their faces had not Billyintruded a heavy boot. The next instant he placed a large palm over thecelestial's face and pushed the man back into the house. Once inside hecalled Mr. Harding's name aloud. 

"What is it?" asked the gentleman a moment later as he appeared in abedroom doorway off the living-room clad in his pajamas. "What's thematter? Why, gad man, is that you? Is this really Billy Byrne?"

"Sure, " replied Byrne shortly; "but we can't waste any time chinnin'. Iheard that Miss Barbara was goin' to be swiped last night--I heard thatshe had been. Now hurry and see if she is here. "

Anthony Harding turned and leaped up the narrow stairway to the secondfloor four steps at a time. He hadn't gone upstairs in that fashion inforty years. Without even pausing to rap he burst into his daughter'sbedroom. It was empty. The bed was unruffled. It had not been slept in. With a moan the man turned back and ran hastily to the other rooms uponthe second floor--Barbara was nowhere to be found. Then he hasteneddownstairs to the two men awaiting him. 

As he entered the room from one end Grayson entered it from the otherthrough the doorway leading out upon the veranda. Billy Byrne had heardfootsteps upon the boards without and he was ready, so that as Graysonentered he found himself looking straight at the business end of asixshooter. The foreman halted, and stood looking in surprise first atBilly Byrne, and then at Eddie Shorter and Mr. Harding. 

"What does this mean?" he demanded, addressing Eddie. "What you doin'here with your prisoner? Who told you to let him out, eh?"

"Can the chatter, " growled Billy Byrne. "Shorter didn't let me out. Iescaped hours ago, and I've just come back from Jose's to ask you whereMiss Harding is, you low-lived cur, you. Where is she?"

"What has Mr. Grayson to do with it?" asked Mr. Harding. "How should heknow anything about it? It's all a mystery to me--you here, of all menin the world, and Grayson talking about you as the prisoner. I can'tmake it out. Quick, though, Byrne, tell me all you know about Barbara. "

Billy kept Grayson covered as he replied to the request of Harding. 

"This guy hires a bunch of Pimans to steal Miss Barbara, " he said. "Igot it straight from the fellow he paid the money to for gettin' him theright men to pull off the job. He wants her it seems, " and Billy shota look at the ranch foreman that would have killed if looks could. "Shecan't have been gone long. I seen her after midnight, just before I mademy getaway, so they can't have taken her very far. This thing here can'thelp us none neither, for he don't know where she is any more'n we do. He thinks he does; but he don't. The siwashes framed it on him, an'they've doubled-crossed him. I got that straight too; but, Gawd! I don'tknow where they've taken her or what they're goin' to do with her. "

As he spoke he turned his eyes for the first time away from Grayson andlooked full in Anthony Harding's face. The latter saw beneath the strongcharacter lines of the other's countenance the agony of fear and doubtthat lay heavy upon his heart. 

In the brief instant that Billy's watchful gaze left the figure of theranch foreman the latter saw the opportunity he craved. He was standingdirectly in the doorway--a single step would carry him out of range ofByrne's gun, placing a wall between it and him, and Grayson was not slowin taking that step. 

When Billy turned his eyes back the Texan had disappeared, and by thetime the former reached the doorway Grayson was halfway to the officebuilding on the veranda of which stood the four soldiers of Villagrumbling and muttering over the absence of their prisoner of theprevious evening. 

Billy Byrne stepped out into the open. The ranch foreman called aloud tothe four Mexicans that their prisoner was at the ranchhouse and as theylooked in that direction they saw him, revolver in hand, coming slowlytoward them. There was a smile upon his lips which they could not seebecause of the distance, and which, not knowing Billy Byrne, they wouldnot have interpreted correctly; but the revolver they did understand, and at sight of it one of them threw his carbine to his shoulder. Hisfinger, however, never closed upon the trigger, for there came the soundof a shot from beyond Billy Byrne and the Mexican staggered forward, pitching over the edge of the porch to the ground. 

Billy turned his head in the direction from which the shot had come andsaw Eddie Shorter running toward him, a smoking six-shooter in his righthand. 

"Go back, " commanded Byrne; "this is my funeral. "

"Not on your life, " replied Eddie Shorter. "Those greasers don't take nowhite man off'n El Orobo, while I'm here. Get busy! They're comin'. "

And sure enough they were coming, and as they came their carbines poppedand the bullets whizzed about the heads of the two Americans. Grayson, too, had taken a hand upon the side of the Villistas. From the bunkhouseother men were running rapidly in the direction of the fight, attractedby the first shots. 

Billy and Eddie stood their ground, a few paces apart. Two more ofVilla's men went down. Grayson ran for cover. Then Billy Byrne droppedthe last of the Mexicans just as the men from the bunkhouse came pantingupon the scene. There were both Americans and Mexicans among them. Allwere armed and weapons were ready in their hands. 

They paused a short distance from the two men. Eddie's presence upon theside of the stranger saved Billy from instant death, for Eddie was wellliked by both his Mexican and American fellow-workers. 

"What's the fuss?" asked an American. 

Eddie told them, and when they learned that the boss's daughter had beenspirited away and that the ranch foreman was at the bottom of it theanger of the Americans rose to a dangerous pitch. 

"Where is he?" someone asked. They were gathered in a little cluster nowabout Billy Byrne and Shorter. 

"I saw him duck behind the office building, " said Eddie. 

"Come on, " said another. "We'll get him. "

"Someone get a rope. " The men spoke in low, ordinary tones--theyappeared unexcited. Determination was the most apparent characteristicof the group. One of them ran back toward the bunkhouse for his rope. The others walked slowly in the direction of the rear of the officebuilding. Grayson was not there. The search proceeded. The Americanswere in advance. The Mexicans kept in a group by themselves a little inrear of the others--it was not their trouble. If the gringos wanted tolynch another gringo, well and good--that was the gringos' business. They would keep out of it, and they did. 

Down past the bunkhouse and the cookhouse to the stables the searchersmade their way. Grayson could not be found. In the stables one of themen made a discovery--the foreman's saddle had vanished. Out in thecorrals they went. One of the men laughed--the bars were down and thesaddle horses gone. Eddie Shorter presently pointed out across thepasture and the river to the skyline of the low bluffs beyond. Theothers looked. A horseman was just visible urging his mount upward tothe crest, the two stood in silhouette against the morning sky pink withthe new sun. 

"That's him, " said Eddie. 

"Let him go, " said Billy Byrne. "He won't never come back and he ain'tworth chasin'. Not while we got Miss Barbara to look after. My horseis down there with yours. I'm goin' down to get him. Will you come, Shorter? I may need help--I ain't much with a rope yet. "

He started off without waiting for a reply, and all the Americansfollowed. Together they circled the horses and drove them back to thecorral. When Billy had saddled and mounted he saw that the others haddone likewise. 

"We're goin' with you, " said one of the men. "Miss Barbara b'longs tous. "

Billy nodded and moved off in the direction of the ranchhouse. Here hedismounted and with Eddie Shorter and Mr. Harding commenced circlingthe house in search of some manner of clue to the direction taken bythe abductors. It was not long before they came upon the spot where theIndians' horses had stood the night before. From there the trail ledplainly down toward the river. In a moment ten Americans were followingit, after Mr. Harding had supplied Billy Byrne with a carbine, anothersix-shooter, and ammunition. 

Through the river and the cut in the barbed-wire fence, then up the faceof the bluff and out across the low mesa beyond the trail led. For amile it was distinct, and then disappeared as though the riders hadseparated. 

"Well, " said Billy, as the others drew around him for consultation, "they'd be goin' to the hills there. They was Pimans--Esteban's tribe. They got her up there in the hills somewheres. Let's split up an'search the hills for her. Whoever comes on 'em first'll have to dosome shootin' and the rest of us can close in an' help. We can go inpairs--then if one's killed the other can ride out an' lead the way backto where it happened. "

The men seemed satisfied with the plan and broke up into parties of two. Eddie Shorter paired off with Billy Byrne. 

"Spread out, " said the latter to his companions. "Eddie an' I'll ridestraight ahead--the rest of you can fan out a few miles on either sideof us. S'long an' good luck, " and he started off toward the hills, EddieShorter at his side. 

Back at the ranch the Mexican vaqueros lounged about, grumbling. With noforeman there was nothing to do except talk about their troubles. Theyhad not been paid since the looting of the bank at Cuivaca, for Mr. Harding had been unable to get any silver from elsewhere until a fewdays since. He now had assurances that it was on the way to him; butwhether or not it would reach El Orobo was a question. 

"Why should we stay here when we are not paid?" asked one of them. 

"Yes, why?" chorused several others. 

"There is nothing to do here, " said another. "We will go to Cuivaca. I, for one, am tired of working for the gringos. "

This met with the unqualified approval of all, and a few momentslater the men had saddled their ponies and were galloping away in thedirection of sun-baked Cuivaca. They sang now, and were happy, for theywere as little boys playing hooky from school--not bad men; but ratherirresponsible children. 

Once in Cuivaca they swooped down upon the drinking-place, where, withwhat little money a few of them had left they proceeded to get drunk. 

Later in the day an old, dried-up Indian entered. He was hot and dustyfrom a long ride. 

"Hey, Jose!" cried one of the vaqueros from El Orobo Rancho; "you oldrascal, what are you doing here?"

Jose looked around upon them. He knew them all--they represented theMexican contingent of the riders of El Orobo. Jose wondered what theywere all doing here in Cuivaca at one time. Even upon a pay day it neverhad been the rule of El Orobo to allow more than four men at a time tocome to town. 

"Oh, Jose come to buy coffee and tobacco, " he replied. He looked aboutsearchingly. "Where are the others?" he asked, "--the gringos?"

"They have ridden after Esteban, " explained one of the vaqueros. "He hasrun off with Senorita Harding. "

Jose raised his eyebrows as though this was all news. 

"And Senor Grayson has gone with them?" he asked. "He was very fond ofthe senorita. "

"Senor Grayson has run away, " went on the other speaker. "The othergringos wished to hang him, for it is said he has bribed Esteban to dothis thing. "

Again Jose raised his eyebrows. "Impossible!" he ejaculated. "And whothen guards the ranch?" he asked presently. 

"Senor Harding, two Mexican house servants, and a Chinaman, " and thevaquero laughed. 

"I must be going, " Jose announced after a moment. "It is a long ride foran old man from my poor home to Cuivaca, and back again. "

The vaqueros were paying no further attention to him, and the Indianpassed out and sought his pony; but when he had mounted and ridden fromtown he took a strange direction for one whose path lies to the east, since he turned his pony's head toward the northwest. 

Jose had ridden far that day, since Billy had left his humble hut. Hehad gone to the west to the little rancho of one of Pesita's adherentswho had dispatched a boy to carry word to the bandit that his CaptainByrne had escaped the Villistas, and then Jose had ridden into Cuivacaby a circuitous route which brought him up from the east side of thetown. 

Now he was riding once again for Pesita; but this time he would bearthe information himself. He found the chief in camp and after beggingtobacco and a cigarette paper the Indian finally reached the purpose ofhis visit. 

"Jose has just come from Cuivaca, " he said, "and there he drank withall the Mexican vaqueros of El Orobo Rancho--ALL, my general, youunderstand. It seems that Esteban has carried off the beautiful senoritaof El Orobo Rancho, and the vaqueros tell Jose that ALL the Americanvaqueros have ridden in search of her--ALL, my general, you understand. In such times of danger it is odd that the gringos should leave El Orobothus unguarded. Only the rich Senor Harding, two house servants, and aChinaman remain. "

A man lay stretched upon his blankets in a tent next to that occupiedby Pesita. At the sound of the speaker's voice, low though it was, heraised his head and listened. He heard every word, and a scowl settledupon his brow. Barbara stolen! Mr Harding practically alone upon theranch! And Pesita in possession of this information!

Bridge rose to his feet. He buckled his cartridge belt about his waistand picked up his carbine, then he crawled under the rear wall of histent and walked slowly off in the direction of the picket line where thehorses were tethered. 

"Ah, Senor Bridge, " said a pleasant voice in his ear; "where to?"

Bridge turned quickly to look into the smiling, evil face of Rozales. 

"Oh, " he replied, "I'm going out to see if I can't find some shooting. It's awfully dull sitting around here doing nothing. "

"Si, senor, " agreed Rozales; "I, too, find it so. Let us go together--Iknow where the shooting is best. "

"I don't doubt it, " thought Bridge; "probably in the back;" but aloudhe said: "Certainly, that will be fine, " for he guessed that Rozales hadbeen set to watch his movements and prevent his escape, and, perchance, to be the sole witness of some unhappy event which should carry SenorBridge to the arms of his fathers. 

Rozales called a soldier to saddle and bridle their horses and shortlyafter the two were riding abreast down the trail out of the hills. Whereit was necessary that they ride in single file Bridge was careful tosee that Rozales rode ahead, and the Mexican graciously permitted theAmerican to fall behind. 

If he was inspired by any other motive than simple espionage he wasevidently content to bide his time until chance gave him the opening hedesired, and it was equally evident that he felt as safe in front of theAmerican as behind him. 

At a point where a ravine down which they had ridden debauched upon amesa Rozales suggested that they ride to the north, which was not at allthe direction in which Bridge intended going. The American demurred. 

"But there is no shooting down in the valley, " urged Rozales. 

"I think there will be, " was Bridge's enigmatical reply, and then, witha sudden exclamation of surprise he pointed over Rozales' shoulder. "What's that?" he cried in a voice tense with excitement. 

The Mexican turned his head quickly in the direction Bridge's indexfinger indicated. 

"I see nothing, " said Rozales, after a moment. 

"You do now, though, " replied Bridge, and as the Mexican's eyes returnedin the direction of his companion he was forced to admit that he did seesomething--the dismal, hollow eye of a six-shooter looking him straightin the face. 

"Senor Bridge!" exclaimed Rozales. "What are you doing? What do youmean?"

"I mean, " said Bridge, "that if you are at all solicitous of your healthyou'll climb down off that pony, not forgetting to keep your hands aboveyour head when you reach the ground. Now climb!"

Rozales dismounted. 

"Turn your back toward me, " commanded the American, and when the otherhad obeyed him, Bridge dismounted and removed the man's weapons from hisbelt. "Now you may go, Rozales, " he said, "and should you ever have anAmerican in your power again remember that I spared your life when Imight easily have taken it--when it would have been infinitely safer forme to have done it. "

The Mexican made no reply, but the black scowl that clouded his faceboded ill for the next gringo who should be so unfortunate as to fallinto his hands. Slowly he wheeled about and started back up the trail inthe direction of the Pesita camp. 

"I'll be halfway to El Orobo, " thought Bridge, "before he gets a chanceto tell Pesita what happened to him, " and then he remounted and rode ondown into the valley, leading Rozales' horse behind him. 

It would never do, he knew, to turn the animal loose too soon, since hewould doubtless make his way back to camp, and in doing so would haveto pass Rozales who would catch him. Time was what Bridge wanted--to bewell on his way to Orobo before Pesita should learn of his escape. 

Bridge knew nothing of what had happened to Billy, for Pesita had seento it that the information was kept from the American. The latter had, nevertheless, been worrying not a little at the absence of his friendfor he knew that he had taken his liberty and his life in his hands inriding down to El Orobo among avowed enemies. 

Far to his rear Rozales plodded sullenly up the steep trail through themountains, revolving in his mind various exquisite tortures he should bedelighted to inflict upon the next gringo who came into his power. 

CHAPTER XVI. EDDIE MAKES GOOD

BILLY BYRNE and Eddie Shorter rode steadily in the direction of thehills. Upon either side and at intervals of a mile or more stretched theothers of their party, occasionally visible; but for the most part not. Once in the hills the two could no longer see their friends or be seenby them. 

Both Byrne and Eddie felt that chance had placed them upon the righttrail for a well-marked and long-used path wound upward through a canyonalong which they rode. It was an excellent location for an ambush, andboth men breathed more freely when they had passed out of it into moreopen country upon a narrow tableland between the first foothills and themain range of mountains. 

Here again was the trail well marked, and when Eddie, looking ahead, sawthat it appeared to lead in the direction of a vivid green spot close tothe base of the gray brown hills he gave an exclamation of assurance. 

"We're on the right trail all right, old man, " he said. "They's waterthere, " and he pointed ahead at the green splotch upon the gray. "That'swhere they'd be havin' their village. I ain't never been up here so Iain't familiar with the country. You see we don't run no cattle thisside the river--the Pimans won't let us. They don't care to have nowhite men pokin' round in their country; but I'll bet a hat we find acamp there. "

Onward they rode toward the little spot of green. Sometimes it wasin sight and again as they approached higher ground, or wound throughgullies and ravines it was lost to their sight; but always they kept itas their goal. The trail they were upon led to it--of that therecould be no longer the slightest doubt. And as they rode with theirdestination in view black, beady eyes looked down upon them from thevery green oasis toward which they urged their ponies--tiring now fromthe climb. 

A lithe, brown body lay stretched comfortably upon a bed of grasses atthe edge of a little rise of ground beneath which the riders must passbefore they came to the cluster of huts which squatted in a tiny naturalpark at the foot of the main peak. Far above the watcher a spring ofclear, pure water bubbled out of the mountain-side, and running downwardformed little pools among the rocks which held it. And with this waterthe Pimans irrigated their small fields before it sank from sight againinto the earth just below their village. Beside the brown body lay along rifle. The man's eyes watched, unblinking, the two specks far belowhim whom he knew and had known for an hour were gringos. 

Another brown body wormed itself forward to his side and peered over theedge of the declivity down upon the white men. He spoke a few words ina whisper to him who watched with the rifle, and then crawled back againand disappeared. And all the while, onward and upward came Billy Byrneand Eddie Shorter, each knowing in his heart that if not already, thenat any moment a watcher would discover them and a little later a bulletwould fly that would find one of them, and they took the chance for thesake of the American girl who lay hidden somewhere in these hills, forin no other way could they locate her hiding place more quickly. Any oneof the other eight Americans who rode in pairs into the hills at otherpoints to the left and right of Billy Byrne and his companion wouldhave and was even then cheerfully taking the same chances that Eddie andBilly took, only the latter were now assured that to one of them wouldfall the sacrifice, for as they had come closer Eddie had seen a thinwreath of smoke rising from among the trees of the oasis. Now, indeed, were they sure that they had chanced upon the trail to the Pimanvillage. 

"We gotta keep our eyes peeled, " said Eddie, as they wound into a ravinewhich from its location evidently led directly up to the village. "Weain't far from 'em now, an' if they get us they'll get us about here. "

As though to punctuate his speech with the final period a rifle crackedabove them. Eddie jumped spasmodically and clutched his breast. 

"I'm hit, " he said, quite unemotionally. 

Billy Byrne's revolver had answered the shot from above them, the bulletstriking where Billy had seen a puff of smoke following the rifle shot. Then Billy turned toward Eddie. 

"Hit bad?" he asked. 

"Yep, I guess so, " said Eddie. "What'll we do? Hide up here, or rideback after the others?"

Another shot rang out above them, although Billy had been watching fora target at which to shoot again--a target which he had been positive hewould get when the man rose to fire again. And Billy did see the fellowat last--a few paces from where he had first fired; but not until theother had dropped Eddie's horse beneath him. Byrne fired again, and thistime he had the satisfaction of seeing a brown body rise, struggle amoment, and then roll over once upon the grass before it came to rest. 

"I reckon we'll stay here, " said Billy, looking ruefully at Eddie'shorse. 

Eddie rose and as he did so he staggered and grew very white. Billydismounted and ran forward, putting an arm about him. Another shot camefrom above and Billy Byrne's pony grunted and collapsed. 

"Hell!" exclaimed Byrne. "We gotta get out of this, " and lifting hiswounded comrade in his arms he ran for the shelter of the bluff from thesummit of which the snipers had fired upon them. Close in, hugging theface of the perpendicular wall of tumbled rock and earth, they wereout of range of the Indians; but Billy did not stop when he had reachedtemporary safety. Farther up toward the direction in which lay thevillage, and halfway up the side of the bluff Billy saw what he took tobe excellent shelter. Here the face of the bluff was less steep andupon it lay a number of large bowlders, while others protruded from theground about them. 

Toward these Billy made his way. The wounded man across his shoulderwas suffering indescribable agonies; but he bit his lip and stifled thecries that each step his comrade took seemed to wrench from him, lest heattract the enemy to their position. 

Above them all was silence, yet Billy knew that alert, red foemen werecreeping to the edge of the bluff in search of their prey. If he couldbut reach the shelter of the bowlders before the Pimans discovered them!

The minutes that were consumed in covering the hundred yards seemed asmany hours to Billy Byrne; but at last he dragged the fainting cowboybetween two large bowlders close under the edge of the bluff and foundhimself in a little, natural fortress, well adapted to defense. 

From above they were protected from the fire of the Indians upon thebluff by the height of the bowlder at the foot of which they lay, whileanother just in front hid them from possible marksmen across the canyon. Smaller rocks scattered about gave promise of shelter from flank fire, and as soon as he had deposited Eddie in the comparative safety of theirretreat Byrne commenced forming a low breastwork upon the side facingthe village--the direction from which they might naturally expectattack. This done he turned his attention to the opening upon theopposite side and soon had a similar defense constructed there, then heturned his attention to Eddie, though keeping a watchful eye upon bothapproaches to their stronghold. 

The Kansan lay upon his side, moaning. Blood stained his lips andnostrils, and when Billy Byrne opened his shirt and found a gaping woundin his right breast he knew how serious was his companion's injury. Ashe felt Billy working over him the boy opened his eyes. 

"Do you think I'm done for?" he asked in a tortured whisper. 

"Nothin' doin', " lied Billy cheerfully. "Just a scratch. You'll be allright in a day or two. "

Eddie shook his head wearily. "I wish I could believe you, " he said. "Iben figgerin' on goin' back to see maw. I ain't thought o' nothin' elsesince you told me 'bout how she missed me. I ken see her right now justlike I was there. I'll bet she's scrubbin' the kitchen floor. Maw wasalways a-scrubbin' somethin'. Gee! but it's tough to cash in like thisjust when I was figgerin' on goin' home. "

Billy couldn't think of anything to say. He turned to look up and downthe canyon in search of the enemy. 

"Home!" whispered Eddie. "Home!"

"Aw, shucks!" said Billy kindly. "You'll get home all right, kid. Theboys must a-heard the shootin' an' they'll be along in no time now. Thenwe'll clean up this bunch o' coons an' have you back to El Orobo an'nursed into shape in no time. "

Eddie tried to smile as he looked up into the other's face. He reached ahand out and laid it on Billy's arm. 

"You're all right, old man, " he whispered. "I know you're lyin' an' sodo you; but it makes me feel better anyway to have you say them things. "

Billy felt as one who has been caught stealing from a blind man. Theonly adequate reply of which he could think was, "Aw, shucks!"

"Say, " said Eddie after a moment's silence, "if you get out o' here an'ever go back to the States promise me you'll look up maw and paw an'tell 'em I was comin' home--to stay. Tell 'em I died decent, too, willyou--died like paw was always a-tellin' me my granddad died, fightin'Injuns 'round Fort Dodge somewheres. "

"Sure, " said Billy; "I'll tell 'em. Gee! Look who's comin' here, " andas he spoke he flattened himself to the ground just as a bullet pingedagainst the rock above his head and the report of a rifle soundedfrom up the canyon. "That guy most got me. I'll have to be 'tendin' tobusiness better'n this. "

He drew himself slowly up upon his elbows, his carbine ready in hishand, and peered through a small aperture between two of the rocks whichcomposed his breastwork. Then he stuck the muzzle of the weapon through, took aim and pulled the trigger. 

"Didje get him?" asked Eddie. 

"Yep, " said Billy, and fired again. "Got that one too. Say, they'retough-lookin' guys; but I guess they won't come so fast next time. Thosetwo were right in the open, workin' up to us on their bellies. They musta-thought we was sleepin'. "

For an hour Billy neither saw nor heard any sign of the enemy, thoughseveral times he raised his hat above the breastwork upon the muzzle ofhis carbine to draw their fire. 

It was midafternoon when the sound of distant rifle fire came faintly tothe ears of the two men from somewhere far below them. 

"The boys must be comin', " whispered Eddie Shorter hopefully. 

For half an hour the firing continued and then silence again fell uponthe mountains. Eddie began to wander mentally. He talked much of Kansasand his old home, and many times he begged for water. 

"Buck up, kid, " said Billy; "the boys'll be along in a minute now an'then we'll get you all the water you want. "

But the boys did not come. Billy was standing up now, stretching hislegs, and searching up and down the canyon for Indians. He was wonderingif he could chance making a break for the valley where they stoodsome slight chance of meeting with their companions, and even as heconsidered the matter seriously there came a staccato report and BillyByrne fell forward in a heap. 

"God!" cried Eddie. "They got him now, they got him. "

Byrne stirred and struggled to rise. 

"Like'll they got me, " he said, and staggered to his knees. 

Over the breastwork he saw a half-dozen Indians running rapidly towardthe shelter--he saw them in a haze of red that was caused not by bloodbut by anger. With an oath Billy Byrne leaped to his feet. From hisknees up his whole body was exposed to the enemy; but Billy cared not. He was in a berserker rage. Whipping his carbine to his shoulder he letdrive at the advancing Indians who were now beyond hope of cover. Theymust come on or be shot down where they were, so they came on, yellinglike devils and stopping momentarily to fire upon the rash white man whostood so perfect a target before them. 

But their haste spoiled their marksmanship. The bullets zinged andzipped against the rocky little fortress, they nicked Billy's shirt andtrousers and hat, and all the while he stood there pumping lead intohis assailants--not hysterically; but with the cool deliberation of abutcher slaughtering beeves. 

One by one the Pimans dropped until but a single Indian rushedfrantically upon the white man, and then the last of the assailantslunged forward across the breastwork with a bullet from Billy's carbinethrough his forehead. 

Eddie Shorter had raised himself painfully upon an elbow that he mightwitness the battle, and when it was over he sank back, the blood wellingfrom between his set teeth. 

Billy turned to look at him when the last of the Pimans was disposedof, and seeing his condition kneeled beside him and took his head in thehollow of an arm. 

"You orter lie still, " he cautioned the Kansan. "Tain't good for you tomove around much. "

"It was worth it, " whispered Eddie. "Say, but that was some scrap. Yougot your nerve standin' up there against the bunch of 'em; but if youhadn't they'd have rushed us and some of 'em would a-got in. "

"Funny the boys don't come, " said Billy. 

"Yes, " replied Eddie, with a sigh; "it's milkin' time now, an' Ifiggered on goin' to Shawnee this evenin'. Them's nice cookies, maw. I--"

Billy Byrne was bending low to catch his feeble words, and when thevoice trailed out into nothingness he lowered the tousled red head tothe hard earth and turned away. 

Could it be that the thing which glistened on the eyelid of the toughestguy on the West Side was a tear?

The afternoon waned and night came, but it brought to Billy Byrneneither renewed attack nor succor. The bullet which had dropped himmomentarily had but creased his forehead. Aside from the fact that hewas blood covered from the wound it had inconvenienced him in no way, and now that darkness had fallen he commenced to plan upon leaving theshelter. 

First he transferred Eddie's ammunition to his own person, and suchvaluables and trinkets as he thought "maw" might be glad to have, thenhe removed the breechblock from Eddie's carbine and stuck it in hispocket that the weapon might be valueless to the Indians when they foundit. 

"Sorry I can't bury you old man, " was Billy's parting comment, as heclimbed over the breastwork and melted into the night. 

Billy Byrne moved cautiously through the darkness, and he moved not inthe direction of escape and safety but directly up the canyon in the waythat the village of the Pimans lay. 

Soon he heard the sound of voices and shortly after saw the light ofcook fires playing upon bronzed faces and upon the fronts of low huts. Some women were moaning and wailing. Billy guessed that they mourned forthose whom his bullets had found earlier in the day. In the darkness ofthe night, far up among the rough, forbidding mountains it was all veryweird and uncanny. 

Billy crept closer to the village. Shelter was abundant. He saw no signof sentry and wondered why they should be so lax in the face of almostcertain attack. Then it occurred to him that possibly the firing he andEddie had heard earlier in the day far down among the foothills mighthave meant the extermination of the Americans from El Orobo. 

"Well, I'll be next then, " mused Billy, and wormed closer to the huts. His eyes were on the alert every instant, as were his ears; but no signof that which he sought rewarded his keenest observation. 

Until midnight he lay in concealment and all that time the mournerscontinued their dismal wailing. Then, one by one, they entered theirhuts, and silence reigned within the village. 

Billy crept closer. He eyed each hut with longing, wondering gaze. Whichcould it be? How could he determine? One seemed little more promisingthan the others. He had noted those to which Indians had retired. Therewere three into which he had seen none go. These, then, should be thefirst to undergo his scrutiny. 

The night was dark. The moon had not yet risen. Only a few dying firescast a wavering and uncertain light upon the scene. Through the shadowsBilly Byrne crept closer and closer. At last he lay close beside one ofthe huts which was to be the first to claim his attention. 

For several moments he lay listening intently for any sound which mightcome from within; but there was none. He crawled to the doorway andpeered within. Utter darkness shrouded and hid the interior. 

Billy rose and walked boldly inside. If he could see no one within, thenno one could see him once he was inside the door. Therefore, so reasonedBilly Byrne, he would have as good a chance as the occupants of the hut, should they prove to be enemies. 

He crossed the floor carefully, stopping often to listen. At last heheard a rustling sound just ahead of him. His fingers tightened upon therevolver he carried in his right hand, by the barrel, clublike. Billyhad no intention of making any more noise than necessary. 

Again he heard a sound from the same direction. It was not at all unlikethe frightened gasp of a woman. Billy emitted a low growl, in fairimitation of a prowling dog that has been disturbed. 

Again the gasp, and a low: "Go away!" in liquid feminine tones--and inEnglish!

Billy uttered a low: "S-s-sh!" and tiptoed closer. Extending his handsthey presently came in contact with a human body which shrank from himwith another smothered cry. 

"Barbara!" whispered Billy, bending closer. 

A hand reached out through the darkness, found him, and closed upon hissleeve. 

"Who are you?" asked a low voice. 

"Billy, " he replied. "Are you alone in here?"

"No, an old woman guards me, " replied the girl, and at the same timethey both heard a movement close at hand, and something scurriedpast them to be silhouetted for an instant against the path of lesserdarkness which marked the location of the doorway. 

"There she goes!" cried Barbara. "She heard you and she has gone forhelp. "

"Then come!" said Billy, seizing the girl's arm and dragging her to herfeet; but they had scarce crossed half the distance to the doorway whenthe cries of the old woman without warned them that the camp was beingaroused. 

Billy thrust a revolver into Barbara's hand. "We gotta make a fight ofit, little girl, " he said. "But you'd better die than be here alone. "

As they emerged from the hut they saw warriors running from everydoorway. The old woman stood screaming in Piman at the top of her lungs. Billy, keeping Barbara in front of him that he might shield her bodywith his own, turned directly out of the village. He did not fire atfirst hoping that they might elude detection and thus not draw the fireof the Indians upon them; but he was doomed to disappointment, and theyhad taken scarcely a dozen steps when a rifle spoke above the noise ofhuman voices and a bullet whizzed past them. 

Then Billy replied, and Barbara, too, from just behind his shoulder. Together they backed away toward the shadow of the trees beyond thevillage and as they went they poured shot after shot into the village. 

The Indians, but just awakened and still half stupid from sleep, did notknow but that they were attacked by a vastly superior force, and thisfear held them in check for several minutes--long enough for Billy andBarbara to reach the summit of the bluff from which Billy and Eddie hadfirst been fired upon. 

Here they were hidden from the view of the Indians, and Billy brokeat once into a run, half carrying the girl with a strong arm about herwaist. 

"If we can reach the foothills, " he said, "I think we can dodge 'em, an'by goin' all night we may reach the river and El Orobo by morning. It'sa long hike, Barbara, but we gotta make it--we gotta, for if daylightfinds us in the Piman country we won't never make it. Anyway, " heconcluded optimistically, "it's all down hill. "

"We'll make it, Billy, " she replied, "if we can get past the sentry. "

"What sentry?" asked Billy. "I didn't see no sentry when I come in. "

"They keep a sentry way down the trail all night, " replied the girl. "Inthe daytime he is nearer the village--on the top of this bluff, for fromhere he can see the whole valley; but at night they station him fartheraway in a narrow part of the trail. "

"It's a mighty good thing you tipped me off, " said Billy; "for I'd a-runright into him. I thought they was all behind us now. "

After that they went more cautiously, and when they reached the part ofthe trail where the sentry might be expected to be found, Barbara warnedBilly of the fact. Like two thieves they crept along in the shadow ofthe canyon wall. Inwardly Billy cursed the darkness of the night whichhid from view everything more than a few paces from them; yet it mayhave been this very darkness which saved them, since it hid them aseffectually from an enemy as it hid the enemy from them. They hadreached the point where Barbara was positive the sentry should be. The girl was clinging tightly to Billy's left arm. He could feel thepressure of her fingers as they sunk into his muscles, sending littletremors and thrills through his giant frame. Even in the face of deathBilly Byrne could sense the ecstasies of personal contact with thisgirl--the only woman he ever had loved or ever would. 

And then a black shadow loomed before them, and a rifle flashed in theirfaces without a word or a sign of warning. 

CHAPTER XVII. "YOU ARE MY GIRL!"

MR. ANTHONY HARDING was pacing back and forth the length of the verandaof the ranchhouse at El Orobo waiting for some word of hope from thosewho had ridden out in search of his daughter, Barbara. Each swirlingdust devil that eddied across the dry flat on either side of the riverroused hopes within his breast that it might have been spurred intoactivity by the hoofs of a pony bearing a messenger of good tidings; butalways his hopes were dashed, for no horseman emerged from the heat hazeof the distance where the little dust devils raced playfully among thecacti and the greasewood. 

But at last, in the northwest, a horseman, unheralded by gyrating dustcolumn, came into sight. Mr. Harding shook his head sorrowfully. It hadnot been from this direction that he had expected word of Barbara, yethe kept his eyes fastened upon the rider until the latter reined in atthe ranchyard and loped a tired and sweating pony to the foot of theveranda steps. Then Mr. Harding saw who the newcomer was. 

"Bridge!" he exclaimed. "What brings you back here? Don't you know thatyou endanger us as well as yourself by being seen here? General Villawill think that we have been harboring you. "

Bridge swung from the saddle and ran up onto the veranda. He paid notthe slightest attention to Anthony Harding's protest. 

"How many men you got here that you can depend on?" he asked. 

"None, " replied the Easterner. "What do you mean?"

"None!" cried Bridge, incredulity and hopelessness showing upon hiscountenance. "Isn't there a Chinaman and a couple of faithful Mexicans?"

"Oh, yes, of course, " assented Mr. Harding; "but what are you drivingat?"

"Pesita is on his way here to clean up El Orobo. He can't be very farbehind me. Call the men you got, and we'll get together all the guns andammunition on the ranch, and barricade the ranchhouse. We may be able tostand 'em off. Have you heard anything of Miss Barbara?"

Anthony Harding shook his head sadly. 

"Then we'll have to stay right here and do the best we can, " saidBridge. "I was thinking we might make a run for it if Miss Barbara washere; but as she's not we must wait for those who went out after her. "

Mr. Harding summoned the two Mexicans while Bridge ran to the cookhouseand ordered the Chinaman to the ranchhouse. Then the erstwhilebookkeeper ransacked the bunkhouse for arms and ammunition. What littlehe found he carried to the ranchhouse, and with the help of the othersbarricaded the doors and windows of the first floor. 

"We'll have to make our fight from the upper windows, " he explained tothe ranch owner. "If Pesita doesn't bring too large a force we may beable to stand them off until you can get help from Cuivaca. Call upthere now and see if you can get Villa to send help--he ought to protectyou from Pesita. I understand that there is no love lost between thetwo. "

Anthony Harding went at once to the telephone and rang for the centralat Cuivaca. 

"Tell it to the operator, " shouted Bridge who stood peering through anopening in the barricade before a front window; "they are coming now, and the chances are that the first thing they'll do is cut the telephonewires. "

The Easterner poured his story and appeal for help into the ears of thegirl at the other end of the line, and then for a few moments there wassilence in the room as he listened to her reply. 

"Impossible!" and "My God! it can't be true, " Bridge heard the older manejaculate, and then he saw him hang up the receiver and turn from theinstrument, his face drawn and pinched with an expression of utterhopelessness. 

"What's wrong?" asked Bridge. 

"Villa has turned against the Americans, " replied Harding, dully. "Theoperator evidently feels friendly toward us, for she warned me not toappeal to Villa and told me why. Even now, this minute, the man has aforce of twenty-five hundred ready to march on Columbus, New Mexico. Three Americans were hanged in Cuivaca this afternoon. It's horrible, sir! It's horrible! We are as good as dead this very minute. Even ifwe stand off Pesita we can never escape to the border through Villa'sforces. "

"It looks bad, " admitted Bridge. "In fact it couldn't look much worse;but here we are, and while our ammunition holds out about all we cando is stay here and use it. Will you men stand by us?" he addressed theChinaman and the two Mexicans, who assured him that they had no love forPesita and would fight for Anthony Harding in preference to going overto the enemy. 

"Good!" exclaimed Bridge, "and now for upstairs. They'll be howlingaround here in about five minutes, and we want to give them a receptionthey won't forget. "

He led the way to the second floor, where the five took up positionsnear the front windows. A short distance from the ranchhouse they couldsee the enemy, consisting of a detachment of some twenty of Pesita'stroopers riding at a brisk trot in their direction. 

"Pesita's with them, " announced Bridge, presently. "He's the littlefellow on the sorrel. Wait until they are close up, then give them a fewrounds; but go easy on the ammunition--we haven't any too much. "

Pesita, expecting no resistance, rode boldly into the ranchyard. At thebunkhouse and the office his little force halted while three or fourtroopers dismounted and entered the buildings in search of victims. Disappointed there they moved toward the ranchhouse. 

"Lie low!" Bridge cautioned his companions. "Don't let them see you, andwait till I give the word before you fire. "

On came the horsemen at a slow walk. Bridge waited until they werewithin a few yards of the house, then he cried: "Now! Let 'em have it!"A rattle of rifle fire broke from the upper windows into the ranks ofthe Pesitistas. Three troopers reeled and slipped from their saddles. Two horses dropped in their tracks. Cursing and yelling, the balance ofthe horsemen wheeled and galloped away in the direction of the officebuilding, followed by the fire of the defenders. 

"That wasn't so bad, " cried Bridge. "I'll venture a guess that Mr. Pesita is some surprised--and sore. There they go behind the office. They'll stay there a few minutes talking it over and getting up theircourage to try it again. Next time they'll come from another direction. You two, " he continued, turning to the Mexicans, "take positions onthe east and south sides of the house. Sing can remain here with Mr. Harding. I'll take the north side facing the office. Shoot at the firstman who shows his head. If we can hold them off until dark we may beable to get away. Whatever happens don't let one of them get closeenough to fire the house. That's what they'll try for. "

It was fifteen minutes before the second attack came. Five dismountedtroopers made a dash for the north side of the house; but when Bridgedropped the first of them before he had taken ten steps from the officebuilding and wounded a second the others retreated for shelter. 

Time and again as the afternoon wore away Pesita made attempts to getmen close up to the house; but in each instance they were driven back, until at last they desisted from their efforts to fire the house or rushit, and contented themselves with firing an occasional shot through thewindows opposite them. 

"They're waiting for dark, " said Bridge to Mr. Harding during atemporary lull in the hostilities, "and then we're goners, unless theboys come back from across the river in time. "

"Couldn't we get away after dark?" asked the Easterner. 

"It's our only hope if help don't reach us, " replied Bridge. 

But when night finally fell and the five men made an attempt to leavethe house upon the side away from the office building they were metwith the flash of carbines and the ping of bullets. One of the Mexicandefenders fell, mortally wounded, and the others were barely able todrag him within and replace the barricade before the door when fiveof Pesita's men charged close up to their defenses. These were finallydriven off and again there came a lull; but all hope of escape was gone, and Bridge reposted the defenders at the upper windows where they mightwatch every approach to the house. 

As the hours dragged on the hopelessness of their position grew upon theminds of all. Their ammunition was almost gone--each man had but a fewrounds remaining--and it was evident that Pesita, through an inordinatedesire for revenge, would persist until he had reduced their fortressand claimed the last of them as his victim. 

It was with such cheerful expectations that they awaited the finalassault which would see them without ammunition and defenseless in theface of a cruel and implacable foe. 

It was just before daylight that the anticipated rush occurred. Fromevery side rang the reports of carbines and the yells of the bandits. There were scarcely more than a dozen of the original twenty left; butthey made up for their depleted numbers by the rapidity with which theyworked their firearms and the loudness and ferocity of their savagecries. 

And this time they reached the shelter of the veranda and commencedbattering at the door. 

At the report of the rifle so close to them Billy Byrne shoved Barbaraquickly to one side and leaped forward to close with the man who barredtheir way to liberty. 

That they had surprised him even more than he had them was evidenced bythe wildness of his shot which passed harmlessly above their heads aswell as by the fact that he had permitted them to come so close beforeengaging them. 

To the latter event was attributable his undoing, for it permitted BillyByrne to close with him before the Indian could reload his antiquatedweapon. Down the two men went, the American on top, each striving fora death-hold; but in weight and strength and skill the Piman was faroutclassed by the trained fighter, a part of whose daily workouts hadconsisted in wrestling with proficient artists of the mat. 

Barbara Harding ran forward to assist her champion but as the men rolledand tumbled over the ground she could find no opening for a blow thatmight not endanger Billy Byrne quite as much as it endangered hisantagonist; but presently she discovered that the American required noassistance. She saw the Indian's head bending slowly forward beneath theresistless force of the other's huge muscles, she heard the crack thatannounced the parting of the vertebrae and saw the limp thing whichhad but a moment before been a man, pulsing with life and vigor, rollhelplessly aside--a harmless and inanimate lump of clay. 

Billy Byrne leaped to his feet, shaking himself as a great mastiff mightwhose coat had been ruffled in a fight. 

"Come!" he whispered. "We gotta beat it now for sure. That guy's shot'lllead 'em right down to us, " and once more they took up their flight downtoward the valley, along an unknown trail through the darkness of thenight. 

For the most part they moved in silence, Billy holding the girl's armor hand to steady her over the rough and dangerous portions of the path. And as they went there grew in Billy's breast a love so deep and soresistless that he found himself wondering that he had ever imaginedthat his former passion for this girl was love. 

This new thing surged through him and over him with all the blind, brutal, compelling force of a mighty tidal wave. It battered down andswept away the frail barriers of his new-found gentleness. Again he wasthe Mucker--hating the artificial wall of social caste which separatedhim from this girl; but now he was ready to climb the wall, or, betterstill, to batter it down with his huge fists. But the time was notyet--first he must get Barbara to a place of safety. 

On and on they went. The night grew cold. Far ahead there sounded theoccasional pop of a rifle. Billy wondered what it could mean and as theyapproached the ranch and he discovered that it came from that directionhe hastened their steps to even greater speed than before. 

"Somebody's shootin' up the ranch, " he volunteered. "Wonder who it couldbe. "

"Suppose it is your friend and general?" asked the girl. 

Billy made no reply. They reached the river and as Billy knew not wherethe fords lay he plunged in at the point at which the water first barredtheir progress and dragging the girl after him, plowed bull-like forthe opposite shore. Where the water was above his depth he swam whileBarbara clung to his shoulders. Thus they made the passage quickly andsafely. 

Billy stopped long enough to shake the water out of his carbine, whichthe girl had carried across, and then forged ahead toward the ranchhousefrom which the sounds of battle came now in increased volume. 

And at the ranchhouse "hell was popping. " The moment Bridge realizedthat some of the attackers had reached the veranda he called thesurviving Mexican and the Chinaman to follow him to the lower floorwhere they might stand a better chance to repel this new attack. Mr. Harding he persuaded to remain upstairs. 

Outside a dozen men were battering to force an entrance. Already onepanel had splintered, and as Bridge entered the room he could see thefigures of the bandits through the hole they had made. Raising hisrifle he fired through the aperture. There was a scream as one of theattackers dropped; but the others only increased their efforts, theiroaths, and their threats of vengeance. 

The three defenders poured a few rounds through the sagging door, thenBridge noted that the Chinaman ceased firing. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. 

"Allee gonee, " replied Sing, pointing to his ammunition belt. 

At the same instant the Mexican threw down his carbine and rushed fora window on the opposite side of the room. His ammunition was exhaustedand with it had departed his courage. Flight seemed the only courseremaining. Bridge made no effort to stop him. He would have been glad tofly, too; but he could not leave Anthony Harding, and he was sure thatthe older man would prove unequal to any sustained flight on foot. 

"You better go, too, Sing, " he said to the Chinaman, placing anotherbullet through the door; "there's nothing more that you can do, and itmay be that they are all on this side now--I think they are. You fellowshave fought splendidly. Wish I could give you something more substantialthan thanks; but that's all I have now and shortly Pesita won't evenleave me that much. "

"Allee light, " replied Sing cheerfully, and a second later he wasclambering through the window in the wake of the loyal Mexican. 

And then the door crashed in and half a dozen troopers followed byPesita himself burst into the room. 

Bridge was standing at the foot of the stairs, his carbine clubbed, forhe had just spent his last bullet. He knew that he must die; but he wasdetermined to make them purchase his life as dearly as he could, and todie in defense of Anthony Harding, the father of the girl he loved, eventhough hopelessly. 

Pesita saw from the American's attitude that he had no more ammunition. He struck up the carbine of a trooper who was about to shoot Bridgedown. 

"Wait!" commanded the bandit. "Cease firing! His ammunition is gone. Will you surrender?" he asked of Bridge. 

"Not until I have beaten from the heads of one or two of your friends, "he replied, "that which their egotism leads them to imagine are brains. No, if you take me alive, Pesita, you will have to kill me to do it. "

Pesita shrugged. "Very well, " he said, indifferently, "it makes littledifference to me--that stairway is as good as a wall. These bravedefenders of the liberty of poor, bleeding Mexico will make an excellentfiring squad. Attention, my children! Ready! Aim!"

Eleven carbines were leveled at Bridge. In the ghastly light of earlydawn the sallow complexions of the Mexicans took on a weird hue. TheAmerican made a wry face, a slight shudder shook his slender frame, andthen he squared his shoulders and looked Pesita smilingly in the face. 

The figure of a man appeared at the window through which the Chinamanand the loyal Mexican had escaped. Quick eyes took in the scene withinthe room. 

"Hey!" he yelled. "Cut the rough stuff!" and leaped into the room. 

Pesita, surprised by the interruption, turned toward the intruder beforehe had given the command to fire. A smile lit his features when he sawwho it was. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "my dear Captain Byrne. Just in time to see atraitor and a spy pay the penalty for his crimes. "

"Nothin' doin', " growled Billy Byrne, and then he threw his carbine tohis shoulder and took careful aim at Pesita's face. 

How easy it would have been to have hesitated a moment in the windowbefore he made his presence known--just long enough for Pesita to speakthe single word that would have sent eleven bullets speeding into thebody of the man who loved Barbara and whom Billy believed the girlloved. But did such a thought occur to Billy Byrne of Grand Avenue? Itdid not. He forgot every other consideration beyond his loyalty to afriend. Bridge and Pesita were looking at him in wide-eyed astonishment. 

"Lay down your carbines!" Billy shot his command at the firing squad. "Lay 'em down or I'll bore Pesita. Tell 'em to lay 'em down, Pesita. Igotta bead on your beezer. "

Pesita did as he was bid, his yellow face pasty with rage. 

"Now their cartridge belts!" snapped Billy, and when these had beendeposited upon the floor he told Bridge to disarm the bandit chief. 

"Is Mr. Harding safe?" he asked of Bridge, and receiving an affirmativehe called upstairs for the older man to descend. 

As Mr. Harding reached the foot of the stairs Barbara entered the roomby the window through which Billy had come--a window which opened uponthe side veranda. 

"Now we gotta hike, " announced Billy. "It won't never be safe fornone of you here after this, not even if you do think Villa's yourfriend--which he ain't the friend of no American. "

"We know that now, " said Mr. Harding, and repeated to Billy that whichthe telephone operator had told him earlier in the day. 

Marching Pesita and his men ahead of them Billy and the others madetheir way to the rear of the office building where the horses of thebandits were tethered. They were each armed now from the discardedweapons of the raiders, and well supplied with ammunition. The Chinamanand the loyal Mexican also discovered themselves when they learned thatthe tables had been turned upon Pesita. They, too, were armed and allwere mounted, and when Billy had loaded the remaining weapons upon thebalance of the horses the party rode away, driving Pesita's live stockand arms ahead of them. 

"I imagine, " remarked Bridge, "that you've rather discouragedpursuit for a while at least, " but pursuit came sooner than they hadanticipated. 

They had reached a point on the river not far from Jose's when a bandof horsemen appeared approaching from the west. Billy urged his party togreater speed that they might avoid a meeting if possible; but it soonbecame evident that the strangers had no intention of permitting them togo unchallenged, for they altered their course and increased theirspeed so that they were soon bearing down upon the fugitives at a rapidgallop. 

"I guess, " said Billy, "that we'd better open up on 'em. It's a cinchthey ain't no friends of ours anywhere in these parts. "

"Hadn't we better wait a moment, " said Mr. Harding; "we do not want tochance making any mistake. "

"It ain't never a mistake to shoot a Dago, " replied Billy. His eyeswere fastened upon the approaching horsemen, and he presently gave anexclamation of recognition. "There's Rozales, " he said. "I couldn'tmistake that beanpole nowheres. We're safe enough in takin' a shotat 'em if Rosie's with 'em. He's Pesita's head guy, " and he drew hisrevolver and took a single shot in the direction of his former comrades. Bridge followed his example. The oncoming Pesitistas reined in. Billyreturned his revolver to its holster and drew his carbine. 

"You ride on ahead, " he said to Mr. Harding and Barbara. "Bridge andI'll bring up the rear. "

Then he stopped his pony and turning took deliberate aim at the knot ofhorsemen to their left. A bandit tumbled from his saddle and the fightwas on. 

Fortunately for the Americans Rozales had but a handful of men with himand Rozales himself was never keen for a fight in the open. 

All morning he hovered around the rear of the escaping Americans; butneither side did much damage to the other, and during the afternoonBilly noticed that Rozales merely followed within sight of them, afterhaving dispatched one of his men back in the direction from which theyhad come. 

"After reinforcements, " commented Byrne. 

All day they rode without meeting with any roving bands of soldiers orbandits, and the explanation was all too sinister to the Americans whencoupled with the knowledge that Villa was to attack an American townthat night. 

"I wish we could reach the border in time to warn 'em, " said Billy; "butthey ain't no chance. If we cross before sunup tomorrow morning we'll bedoin' well. "

He had scarcely spoken to Barbara Harding all day, for his duties asrear guard had kept him busy; nor had he conversed much with Bridge, though he had often eyed the latter whose gaze wandered many times tothe slender, graceful figure of the girl ahead of them. 

Billy was thinking as he never had thought before. It seemed to him acruel fate that had so shaped their destinies that his best friend lovedthe girl Billy loved. That Bridge was ignorant of Billy's infatuationfor her the latter well knew. He could not blame Bridge, nor could he, upon the other hand, quite reconcile himself to the more than apparentadoration which marked his friend's attitude toward Barbara. 

As daylight waned the fugitives realized from the shuffling gaitof their mounts, from drooping heads and dull eyes that rest wasimperative. They themselves were fagged, too, and when a ranchhouseloomed in front of them they decided to halt for much-neededrecuperation. 

Here they found three Americans who were totally unaware of Villa'scontemplated raid across the border, and who when they were informed ofit were doubly glad to welcome six extra carbines, for Barbara notonly was armed but was eminently qualified to expend ammunition withoutwasting it. 

Rozales and his small band halted out of range of the ranch; but theywent hungry while their quarry fed themselves and their tired mounts. 

The Clark brothers and their cousin, a man by the name of Mason, whowere the sole inhabitants of the ranch counseled a long rest--two hoursat least, for the border was still ten miles away and speed at the lastmoment might be their sole means of salvation. 

Billy was for moving on at once before the reinforcements, for which hewas sure Rozales had dispatched his messenger, could overtake them. Butthe others were tired and argued, too, that upon jaded ponies they couldnot hope to escape and so they waited, until, just as they were ready tocontinue their flight, flight became impossible. 

Darkness had fallen when the little party commenced to resaddletheir ponies and in the midst of their labors there came a rude anddisheartening interruption. Billy had kept either the Chinaman or Bridgeconstantly upon watch toward the direction in which Rozales' men lolledsmoking in the dark, and it was the crack of Bridge's carbine whichawoke the Americans to the fact that though the border lay but a fewmiles away they were still far from safety. 

As he fired Bridge turned in his saddle and shouted to the others tomake for the shelter of the ranchhouse. 

"There are two hundred of them, " he cried. "Run for cover!"

Billy and the Clark brothers leaped to their saddles and spurred towardthe point where Bridge sat pumping lead into the advancing enemy. Mason and Mr. Harding hurried Barbara to the questionable safety of theranchhouse. The Mexican followed them, and Bridge ordered Sing back toassist in barricading the doors and windows, while he and Billy and theClark boys held the bandits in momentary check. 

Falling back slowly and firing constantly as they came the fourapproached the house while Pesita and his full band advanced cautiouslyafter them. They had almost reached the house when Bridge lunged forwardfrom his saddle. The Clark boys had dismounted and were leading theirponies inside the house. Billy alone noted the wounding of his friend. Without an instant's hesitation he slipped from his saddle, ran backto where Bridge lay and lifted him in his arms. Bullets were patteringthick about them. A horseman far in advance of his fellows gallopedforward with drawn saber to cut down the gringos. 

Billy, casting an occasional glance behind, saw the danger in time tomeet it--just, in fact, as the weapon was cutting through the air towardhis head. Dropping Bridge and dodging to one side he managed to escapethe cut, and before the swordsman could recover Billy had leaped to hispony's side and seizing the rider about the waist dragged him to theground. 

"Rozales!" he exclaimed, and struck the man as he had never struckanother in all his life, with the full force of his mighty musclesbacked by his great weight, with clenched fist full in the face. 

There was a spurting of blood and a splintering of bone, and CaptainGuillermo Rozales sank senseless to the ground, his career of crime andrapine ended forever. 

Again Billy lifted Bridge in his arms and this time he succeeded inreaching the ranchhouse without opposition though a little crimsonstream trickled down his left arm to drop upon the face of his friend ashe deposited Bridge upon the floor of the house. 

All night the Pesitistas circled the lone ranchhouse. All night theypoured their volleys into the adobe walls and through the barricadedwindows. All night the little band of defenders fought gallantly fortheir lives; but as day approached the futility of their endeavors wasborne in upon them, for of the nine one was dead and three wounded, andthe numbers of their assailants seemed undiminished. 

Billy Byrne had been lying all night upon his stomach before a windowfiring out into the darkness at the dim forms which occasionally showedagainst the dull, dead background of the moonless desert. 

Presently he leaped to his feet and crossed the floor to the room inwhich the horses had been placed. 

"Everybody fire toward the rear of the house as fast as they can, " saidBilly. "I want a clear space for my getaway. "

"Where you goin?" asked one of the Clark brothers. 

"North, " replied Billy, "after some of Funston's men on the border. "

"But they won't cross, " said Mr. Harding. "Washington won't let them. "

"They gotta, " snapped Billy Byrne, "an' they will when they know there'san American girl here with a bunch of Dagos yappin' around. "

"You'll be killed, " said Price Clark. "You can't never get through. "

"Leave it to me, " replied Billy. "Just get ready an' open that back doorwhen I give the word, an' then shut it again in a hurry when I've gonethrough. "

He led a horse from the side room, and mounted it. 

"Open her up, boes!" he shouted, and "S'long everybody!"

Price Clark swung the door open. Billy put spurs to his mount and threwhimself forward flat against the animal's neck. Another moment he wasthrough and a rattling fusillade of shots proclaimed the fact that hisbold feat had not gone unnoted by the foe. 

The little Mexican pony shot like a bolt from a crossbow out across thelevel desert. The rattling of carbines only served to add speed to itsfrightened feet. Billy sat erect in the saddle, guiding the horse withhis left hand and working his revolver methodically with his right. 

At a window behind him Barbara Harding stood breathless and spellbounduntil he had disappeared into the gloom of the early morning darknessto the north, then she turned with a weary sigh and resumed her placebeside the wounded Bridge whose head she bathed with cool water, whilehe tossed in the delirium of fever. 

The first streaks of daylight were piercing the heavens, the Pesitistaswere rallying for a decisive charge, the hopes of the little band ofbesieged were at low ebb when from the west there sounded the poundingof many hoofs. 

"Villa, " moaned Westcott Clark, hopelessly. "We're done for now, sureenough. He must be comin' back from his raid on the border. "

In the faint light of dawn they saw a column of horsemen deploy suddenlyinto a long, thin line which galloped forward over the flat earth, coming toward them like a huge, relentless engine of destruction. 

The Pesitistas were watching too. They had ceased firing and sat intheir saddles forgetful of their contemplated charge. 

The occupants of the ranchhouse were gathered at the small windows. 

"What's them?" cried Mason--"them things floating over 'em. "

"They're guidons!" exclaimed Price Clark "--the guidons of the UnitedStates cavalry regiment. See 'em! See 'em? God! but don't they lookgood?"

There was a wild whoop from the lungs of the advancing cavalrymen. Pesita's troops answered it with a scattering volley, and a moment laterthe Americans were among them in that famous revolver charge which isnow history. 

Daylight had come revealing to the watchers in the ranchhouse thefigures of the combatants. In the thick of the fight loomed the giantfigure of a man in nondescript garb which more closely resembled theapparel of the Pesitistas than it did the uniforms of the Americansoldiery, yet it was with them he fought. Barbara's eyes were the firstto detect him. 

"There's Mr. Byrne, " she cried. "It must have been he who brought thetroops. "

"Why, he hasn't had time to reach the border yet, " remonstrated one ofthe Clark boys, "much less get back here with help. "

"There he is though, " said Mr. Harding. "It's certainly strange. I can'tunderstand what American troops are doing across the border--especiallyunder the present administration. "

The Pesitistas held their ground for but a moment then they wheeled andfled; but not before Pesita himself had forced his pony close to that ofBilly Byrne. 

"Traitor!" screamed the bandit. "You shall die for this, " and firedpoint-blank at the American. 

Billy felt a burning sensation in his already wounded left arm; but hisright was still good. 

"For poor, bleeding Mexico!" he cried, and put a bullet through Pesita'sforehead. 

Under escort of the men of the Thirteenth Cavalry who had pursuedVilla's raiders into Mexico and upon whom Billy Byrne had stumbled bychance, the little party of fugitives came safely to United States soil, where all but one breathed sighs of heartfelt relief. 

Bridge was given first aid by members of the hospital corps, who assuredBilly that his friend would not die. Mr. Harding and Barbara were takenin by the wife of an officer, and it was at the quarters of the latterthat Billy Byrne found her alone in the sitting-room. 

The girl looked up as he entered, a sad smile upon her face. She wasabout to ask him of his wound; but he gave her no opportunity. 

"I've come for you, " he said. "I gave you up once when I thought it wasbetter for you to marry a man in your own class. I won't give you upagain. You're mine--you're my girl, and I'm goin' to take you with me. Were goin' to Galveston as fast as we can, and from there we're goin' toRio. You belonged to me long before Bridge saw you. He can't have you. Nobody can have you but me, and if anyone tries to keep me from takingyou they'll get killed. "

He took a step nearer that brought him close to her. She did notshrink--only looked up into his face with wide eyes filled with wonder. He seized her roughly in his arms. 

"You are my girl!" he cried hoarsely. "Kiss me!"

"Wait!" she said. "First tell me what you meant by saying that Bridgecouldn't have me. I never knew that Bridge wanted me, and I certainlyhave never wanted Bridge. O Billy! Why didn't you do this long ago?Months ago in New York I wanted you to take me; but you left me toanother man whom I didn't love. I thought you had ceased to care, Billy, and since we have been together here--since that night in the room backof the office--you have made me feel that I was nothing to you. Take me, Billy! Take me anywhere in the world that you go. I love you and I'llslave for you--anything just to be with you. "

"Barbara!" cried Billy Byrne, and then his voice was smothered by thepressure of warm, red lips against his own. 

A half hour later Billy stepped out into the street to make his way tothe railroad station that he might procure transportation for threeto Galveston. Anthony Harding was going with them. He had listenedto Barbara's pleas, and had finally volunteered to back Billy Byrne'sflight from the jurisdiction of the law, or at least to a place where, under a new name, he could start life over again and live it as theson-in-law of old Anthony Harding should live. 

Among the crowd viewing the havoc wrought by the raiders the previousnight was a large man with a red face. It happened that he turnedsuddenly about as Billy Byrne was on the point of passing behind him. Both men started as recognition lighted their faces and he of the redface found himself looking down the barrel of a six-shooter. 

"Put it up, Byrne, " he admonished the other coolly. "I didn't know youwere so good on the draw. "

"I'm good on the draw all right, Flannagan, " said Billy, "and I ain'tdrawin' for amusement neither. I gotta chance to get away and livestraight, and have a little happiness in life, and, Flannagan, the manwho tries to crab my game is goin' to get himself croaked. I'll never goback to stir alive. See?"

"Yep, " said Flannagan, "I see; but I ain't tryin' to crab your game. Iain't down here after you this trip. Where you been, anyway, that youdon't know the war's over? Why Coke Sheehan confessed a month ago thatit was him that croaked Schneider, and the governor pardoned you aboutten days ago. "

"You stringin' me?" asked Billy, a vicious glint in his eyes. 

"On the level, " Flannagan assured him. "Wait, I gotta clippin' from theTrib in my clothes somewheres that gives all the dope. "

He drew some papers from his coat pocket and handed one to Billy. 

"Turn your back and hold up your hands while I read, " said Byrne, and asFlannagan did as he was bid Billy unfolded the soiled bit of newspaperand read that which set him a-trembling with nervous excitement. 

A moment later Detective Sergeant Flannagan ventured a rearward glanceto note how Byrne was receiving the joyful tidings which the newspaperarticle contained. 

"Well, I'll be!" ejaculated the sleuth, for Billy Byrne was alreadya hundred yards away and breaking all records in his dash for thesitting-room he had quitted but a few minutes before. 

It was a happy and contented trio who took the train the following dayon their way back to New York City after bidding Bridge good-bye in theimprovised hospital and exacting his promise that he would visit them inNew York in the near future. 

It was a month later; spring was filling the southland with new, sweetlife. The joy of living was reflected in the song of birds and theopening of buds. Beside a slow-moving stream a man squatted before atiny fire. A battered tin can, half filled with water stood close to theburning embers. Upon a sharpened stick the man roasted a bit of meat, and as he watched it curling at the edges as the flame licked it hespoke aloud though there was none to hear:

 Just for a con I'd like to know (yes, he crossed over long ago; And he was right, believe me, bo!) if somewhere in the South, Down where the clouds lie on the sea, he found his sweet Penelope With buds of roses in her hair and kisses on her mouth. 

"Which is what they will be singing about me one of these days, " hecommented.