xcitement; then she stepped
forward, and felt along the smooth surface of rock.

The door fitted so closely she could not even determine its exact
outlines. Baffled, her glance wandered about the cell, seeking vainly
for any sign of weakness, and then, giving way utterly to her despair,
the girl flung herself on the bench, covering her eyes to shut out
those hideous surroundings. What should she do? What could she do?
What possibility of hope lay in her own endeavours? From what source
could she expect any outside help?

After those first moments of complete despair, there came greater
calmness, in which her mind began to grapple with the situation. Life
had never been an easy problem, and discouragement was no part of her
creed. She sat up once more, her lips pressed tightly together, her
eyes dry of tears.

In spite of Cateras's cowardly threats these outlaws would never dare
to take her life. There was no occasion for them to resort to so
desperate a deed. Besides this Mexican was only an under officer of
the band, and would never venture to oppose the will of his chief. Her
fate rested not on his word, but upon the decision of Pasqual Mendez,
and, if that bandit was associated with Bill Lacy, as undoubtedly he
was, then as the prisoner of the American, she was certainly safe until
the latter expressed his own wish regarding her.

And why should Lacy desire to take her life? Most assuredly he did
not, or the act would have been already accomplished. The very fact of
her having been transported such a distance was sufficient evidence of
his purpose. The conspirators merely suspected her mission in Haskell;
they were afraid she knew more of their plans than she really did. The
telegram, stolen by Miss La Rue, had convinced the leaders that she
might prove dangerous if left at large, and they had determined to hold
her helpless until their scheme had been worked out and they were
safely beyond pursuit. That was undoubtedly the one object of her
capture. Lacy had no knowledge that Mendez's band was at the
rendezvous; he supposed them to be on a cattle raid to the south, with
only a man or two of his own left as guard over Cavendish.

Cavendish! Her mind grasped clearly now the fact that the man was not
dead. It had not been his body found in the Waldron Apartments, but
that of some other man substituted for purposes of crime. Cavendish
himself had been lured westward, waylaid in some manner and mad