use, voicing their intent to burn that, along with its occupants,
her mind went back to those still within. The wretched woman, whose
death by burning might save the Padre, and her rough but faithful
housekeeper. Regardless of all consequences to herself, now regardless
even of the lives of those two men she had hoped to save, she ran back
to the house.

Flight alone could save the women inside from this drunken crowd.
Flight--and at once. For, resentful at the shot which had felled one
of their comrades, the lawless minds of these creatures saw but one
course to pursue. Well enough Joan knew their doctrine of a life for a
life. She must go back. She must save those two from this ravening
horde.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE TEMPEST BREAKS

Buck moved out of Caesar's stall. He had just finished lightly securing
the double cinchas of his saddle. The bulging saddle-bags had been
made fast behind the cantle and the wallets strapped upon the horn.
Now the great animal was hungrily devouring an added feed of oats
which his master had poured into its manger.

The man glanced over the equipments, and moved to the other end of the
stable, where stood the Padre's heavily built chestnut. It, too, was
ready saddled as though for a journey. Here again the saddle-bags and
wallets had been filled and adjusted. Here again the creature was
devouring an extra feed.

Buck heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned away to where the
lantern was hanging on a nail in the wooden wall. Close beside this a
belt, loaded down with revolver ammunition, and carrying two holsters
from which the butts of a pair of heavy revolvers protruded, was
suspended from another nail. This he took down and strapped about his
waist.

His work for the night was done, and all his preparations made. The
night itself must direct the further course of action for him. As far
as he could see he had prepared for every possible development, but,
as he admitted to himself, he could only see from his own point of
view. He was at work against two opposing forces. There was the law
and Bob Richards on the one hand, and, on the other, the Padre, with a
determination equal to his own. Of the two, he felt that the
redoubtable Bob, backed by the law, would be far the easier to deal
with.

This night, he anticipated, was to be the last he spent in that old
fort. He more than anticipated it; he felt certain. He had heard early
in the day of the return of Joan's Aunt Mercy