his hands, thoroughly
unnerved. The girl looked at him a moment in silence, then touched his
shoulder.

"Look here, Mr. Cavendish," she said firmly, "there is no use losing
your nerve. Surely there must be some way of getting out of here. For
one, I am going to try."

He looked up at her, but with no gleam of hope in his eyes.

"I have tried," he replied despondently, "but it is no use. We are
buried alive."

"Yet there must be ways out," she insisted. "The air in that passage
was perfectly pure; do you know anything about it?"

"Yes; it leads to the top of the cliff, up a steep flight of steps.
But it is impossible to reach the passage, and since these Mexicans
came I have reason to believe they keep a guard."

"They were not here, then, at first?"

"Only for a few days; before that two rough-looking fellows, but
Americans, were all I saw. Now they have gone, and Mexicans have taken
their places--they are worse than the others. Do you know what it
means?"

"Only partially. I have overheard some talk. It seems this is a
rendezvous for a band of outlaws headed by one known as Pasqual Mendez.
I have not seen their leader; but his lieutenant had charge of me."

"Miss Donovan," he said with gravity, "we are in the hands of desperate
men. We will have to take desperate measures to outwit them, and we
will have to make desperate breaks to obtain our freedom."

The girl nodded.

"Mr. Cavendish," she said with womanly courage, "you will not find me
wanting. I am ready for anything, even shooting. I do hope you're a
good shot."

Cavendish smiled.

"I have had some experience," he said.

"Then," the girl added, "you had better take the revolver. I never
fired one except on the Fourth of July, and I would not want to trust
to my marksmanship in a pinch. Not that we will meet any such
situation, Mr. Cavendish--I hope we do not--but in case we do I want to
depend upon you."

"I am glad you said that, Miss Donovan; it gives me courage."

The girl handed the revolver over to him without a word and then held
out the cartridge belt. He snapped open the weapon to assure himself
it was loaded and then ran his fingers over the belt pockets.

"Thirty-six rounds," adjusting the belt to his waist; "that ought to
promise a good fight. Do you feel confidence in me again?"

"Yes," she answered, her eyes lifting to meet his. "I trust you."

"Good. I am not a very desperate character, but will do the best