.

There was no reply, and she stared toward her silent companion, unable
to even perceive his outlines. His silence sent a thrill of anger
through her, and she lost control. Her hand gripped the coarse
shirt-sleeve in determination to compel him to speak.

"Answer me or I'll scream!"

He chuckled grimly, not in the least alarmed.

"Little good that'll do yer now, young woman," he said gruffly, and the
driver turned his head at the sound, "unless yer voice will carry five
miles or so; where are we now, Matt?"

"Comin' down ter the Big Slough," answered the other, expectorating
over the wheel, and flickering a horse with his whip-lash. "'Twouldn't
do no harm now ter fasten back the canvas, Joe; maybe she'd feel a bit
more ter home that away."

There was a good-natured drawl to the voice which had a tendency to
hearten the girl. The driver seemed human, sympathetic: perhaps he
would respond to questioning. The other merely grunted, and began to
unloosen the cover. She leaned forward, and addressed the rounded back
of the fellow in front.

"Are you Mr. Moore?"

He wheeled partly about, surprised into acknowledgment.

"Well, I ain't heered the mister part fer some time, but my name's Matt
Moore, though, how the hell did you know it?"

"The other man called you by name--don't you remember? Besides I had
heard about you before."

"Well, I'll be damned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?"

"Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attacked
him in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men.
So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands I
had fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?"

"I reckon it was, miss," doubtfully. "It don't make no difference,
does it, Joe?"

"Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thet
much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps.
I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish."

"Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass the
terbacco after yer light up."

The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it was
strange and by no means reassuring, showing hard, repulsive, the
complexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshot
from drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly.

"I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt," he said sneeringly, the
match flaring between his fingers. "Th