he went
on--reached the lane that divided the grove. But she did not cross at
once. It was lighter in this lane; she could see quite far.

As she stood there, listening, keenly responsive to all the influences
of the night, she received an impression that did not have its origin
in sight nor sound. And only the leaves touched her--and only their dry
fragrance came to her. But she felt a presence--a strange, indefinable
presence.

But Lucy was brave, and this feeling, whatever it might be, angered
her. She entered the lane and stole swiftly along toward the end of the
grove. Paths crossed the lane at right angles, and at these points she
went swifter. It would be something to tell Slone--she had been
frightened. But thought of him drove away her fear and nervousness, and
her anger with herself.

Then she came to a wider path. She scarcely noted it and passed on.
Then came a quick rustle--a swift shadow. Between two steps--as her
heart leaped--violent arms swept her off the ground. A hard hand was
clapped over her mouth. She was being carried swiftly through the gloom.

Lucy tried to struggle. She could scarcely move a muscle. Iron arms
wrapped her in coils that crushed her. She tried to scream, but her
lips were tight-pressed. Her nostrils were almost closed between two
hard fingers that smelled of horse.

Whoever had her, she was helpless. Lucy's fury admitted of reason. Then
both succumbed to a paralyzing horror. Cordts had got her! She knew it.
She grew limp as a rag and her senses dulled. She almost fainted. The
sickening paralysis of her faculties lingered. But she felt her body
released--she was placed upon her feet--she was shaken by a rough hand.
She swayed, and but for that hand might have fallen. She could see a
tall, dark form over her, and horses, and the gloomy gray open of the
sage slope. The hand left her face.

"Don't yap, girl!" This command in a hard, low voice pierced her ears.
She saw the glint of a gun held before her. Instinctive fear revived
her old faculties. The horrible sick weakness, the dimness, the shaking
internal collapse all left her.

"I'll--be--quiet!" she faltered. She knew what her father had always
feared had come to pass. And though she had been told to put no value
on her life, in that event, she could not run. All in an instant--when
life had been so sweet--she could not face pain or death.

The man moved back a step. He was tall, gaunt, ragged. But not like
Cordts! Never