tock exchange. Slade sells what the bunch maverick and
brand-blot."

The terms brought no enlightenment to Lennon. He was from the Atlantic
coast.

"You mean they deal in cattle?" he inquired.

"Cattle and horses--and tizwin," added Elsie, screwing up her luscious
little mouth over the last word as if it had a bad taste.

Lennon caught a half glimmer of the truth. But the girl's thoughts had
flitted butterfly-fashion----

"I hope your feet don't hurt. Mena's were even rawer--awful bad. She
just couldn't help crying when I sopped them with the tizwin. She says
that's all it's good for. _I_ never knew her to cry before. But you were
too dead asleep to feel the smart. I'll have your boots oiled and your
clothes cleaned before you need 'em."

Quite naturally, Lennon inferred from this chatter that Elsie had first
made Carmena comfortable and then, with innocent concern for him, had
ventured into his room alone to treat his injured hand and feet.

He laid down his fork to clasp one of her plump, capable little hands
with grateful warmth.

"It was most kind of you, Elsie, to care for my injuries."

The grown-up child beamed at him radiantly.

"I think you awful nice, Jack! I just knew I'd like you, the minute I
set eyes on you."

"My word!--when I looked like a dying tramp," teased Lennon.

Carmena had not exaggerated. Elsie was sweet as honey and cuddlier than
a kitten. He felt tempted to put a finger under her dainty up-tilted
chin.

"Now that I look more like a matinee idol, just how much more do you
like me?" he bantered.

"Oh, heaps more than I liked the first pard Mena brought in. He was a
cowman, and after they made him pay a whole lot to get loose, Mena set
Cochise on him 'cause he wanted me to go away to live with him--like
Slade. They filled him up with tizwin and left him out in the middle of
the Basin, with only tizwin in his canteen. Mena said it served him
right and dead men tell no tales."

Lennon stiffened.

"You can't mean to say your father and sister were parties to such an
outrage--that they helped to rob a man and then abandon him to die of
thirst?"

"Why not?" demanded Elsie, with unexpected spirit. "He wasn't what Mena
thought him. He was a _bad_ cowman. He wanted to bring his bunch and
shoot up the Hole and kill us all and make me go with him. You see how
it was, don't you?"

"Yes," agreed Lennon, certain that he understood.

His surmise was that Carmena had sought help from a