in a sling, passed from group to group, profanely busy, snapping
out orders.

"They are going to break in the door with that log!" muttered Westcott
between his clenched teeth. "That white-head down there is boiling
with rage, and whoever the poor devil, or devils, may be, they'll have
to fight."

"Yes, but who are they?" and Brennan sat up. "The whole gang must be
outside there; I counted fourteen. Then, did you notice? Mendez had
his hands bound behind his back. He couldn't even get up until those
fellows untied him. That's what puzzles me."

"It would take more than one to do that job. Maybe we'll find out
now--he's pounding with a revolver butt on the front door."

They listened breathlessly, hanging recklessly over the rim of the
chasm, and staring at that strange scene below, but the man's words
only reached them broken and detached. They got enough, however, to
realise that he demanded the unbarring of the door, and that he both
threatened and promised protection to whoever was within. It was the
language he employed that aroused Westcott.

"Did you hear that?" he asked shortly. "The man spoke English.
Whoever's in there doesn't understand Spanish. Were any Americans down
there when you left, Moore?"

"Joe Sikes, and a fellow they call 'Shorty,' but they're both outside;
that was Joe who bound up ol' Mendez's arm, an' Shorty was helpin'
bring up the log."

The eyes of Brennan and Westcott met understandingly.

"Yer don't suppose that girl----"

"Aye, but I do," and Westcott's voice proved his conviction. "There's
nothing too nervy for her to tackle if it needed to be done. But she
never could have corralled Mendez alone."

"Then there must be another along with her--that fellow yer told me
about likely."

"Fred Cavendish! By Jove, it would be like him. Say, boys, I'm going
down and take a hand in this game."

The marshal gripped him.

"Not yet, Jim! It ain't dark enough. Wait a bit more an' I'm with
yer, old man. It'll be blacker than hell down there in fifteen
minutes, an' then we'll have some chance. They'd pot us now sure afore
we got as far as that cedar. What is the gang up to now, Matt?"

"They're a goin' ter bust in the door," and Moore craned his head
farther out over the edge in eagerness to see. "I reckon they didn't
git no answer that pleased 'em. See ol' Mendez hoppin' about! Lord!
he's mad 'nough to eat nails. Thar comes the log--say, they hit that
some thu