want to be her nurse, and keep with her in some cave or
other while we go foraging?"

Willock muttered deep in his throat, while his companions laughed
disdainfully.

"We've had enough of this!" Red declared, his voice suddenly grown hard
and cold. "Kansas, take the prisoner; Brick Willock, as you're so fond
of the kid, you can carry HER." He opened the door and a rush of wind
extinguished the candle. There was silence while it was being
relighted. The flickering light, reddening to a steady glow, revealed
no mercy on the scowling countenances about the table, and no shadow of
presentiment on that of the still unconscious child.

Red went outside and waited till his brother had drawn forth the
quivering man, and Brick Willock had carried out the girl. Then he
looked back into the room. "You fellows can stay in here," he said
authoritatively. "What we've got to do ain't any easier with a lot of
men standing about, looking on."

The man who had relighted the candle, and who crouched to shield it
with a hairy hand from the gust, nodded approval. His friends were
already gathering together the cards to lose in the excitement of
gambling consciousness of what was about to be done. Red closed the
door on the scene, and turned to face the light.

The wind came in furious gusts, with brief intervals of calm. There
were no clouds, however, and the moon, which had risen not long before,
made the prairie almost as light as if morning had dawned. As far as
the eye could reach in any direction, nothing was to be seen but the
level ground, the unflecked sky, the cabin and the little group near
the tethered ponies.

Gledware had already been stationed with his face toward the moon, and
Kansas Kimball was calmly examining his pistol. Between them and the
horses, Brick Willock had come to a halt, the little girl still
sleeping in his powerful arms. Red's eagle eye noted that she had
unconsciously slipped an arm about the highwayman's neck, as if by some
instinct she would cling the closer to the only one in the band of ten
who had spoken for her life.

Red scowled heavily. He had not forgiven Willock for beating him at
cards, still less for his persistent opposition to his wishes; and he
now resolved that it should be Willock's hand to deal the fatal blow.
He had been troubled before tonight by insubordination on the part of
this man of bristling whiskers, this knave whose voice was ever for
mercy, if mercy were pos