. The sash was raised very
gently.

Ruth leaned out. "Is it you, Steve?" Her voice was tremulous and
tearful. It was a safe guess she had been sobbing her misery into a
pillow.

"Yes."

He caught hold of the edge of the window and swung across, working
himself up and in by sheer power of muscle. Rapidly he fastened the end
of the rope ladder to the head of the bed, which he first half lifted
and half dragged to the window. The rest of the ladder he threw out.

"Ready, Ruth?" he asked, turning to her.

She nodded. He was offering his arm to help her through the window when
a frightened call came from below.

"Steve!"

He looked down. A Mexican trooper, one of those set to guard the front
of the house, was approaching. A glance was enough to show that he knew
something to be wrong. His startled eyes passed from Farrar to the rope
ladder. They followed it from the ground to the window. He stopped,
almost under the window. The camera man, taken aback, did not know what
to do. Was he to run the risk of a shot? Even while he hesitated the man
in uniform reached for a revolver.

Yeager knew what to do, and he did it promptly. Sweeping Ruth back from
the window, he clambered through himself and poised his body for the
leap. The sentry looked up again, saw what was about to happen, and let
out a startled scream at the same instant that he flung up an arm and
fired. Steve felt a sharp sting in his leg as he descended through the
air. He landed astride on the shoulders of the Mexican. The man went to
earth, hammered down so hard that the breath was driven from his body.

The arm of the range-rider rose and fell once. In his hand was the blue
barrel of a revolver. The corrugated butt of the .45 had crashed into
the thick matted hair of the Mexican. But it had done its work. Yeager
rose quickly. The soldier lay still.

Already Ruth was coming down the swaying ladder. She dropped the last
few rounds with a rush, plump into the arms of Steve.

"Let us hurry--hurry," she cried.

It was time to be gone, if not too late. Already men were converging
upon them from different sides. Others were bawling orders for soldiers
to turn out.

Steve went down almost as quickly as he had risen. His leg had given way
unexpectedly.

Before he reached his feet again his revolver was out and doing
business.

"Fire at their legs, Frank. All we want to do is to stop them. Ruth, you
run ahead, straight for the trees. We'll be with you