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, and I can get down there in no time." "Oh, can you? Will you? And you are not afraid--alone at night in the hills? Under any other circumstances I wouldn't think of letting you do it, child--especially with the horse-thieves about. But, it seems the only way----" "Of course it's the only way! And I'm not a bit afraid." Hurrying to the corral, Patty saddled her horse, and a few moments later swung into the trail that led down the creek. She glanced at her watch; it was one o'clock. The moon floated high in the heavens and the valley was almost as light as day. Urging her horse into a run, she found a wild exhilaration in riding through the night, splashing across shallows and shooting across short level stretches to plunge through the water again. After what seemed an interminable wait, Pierce himself appeared at the door in answer to her persistent pounding. Patty thought he eyed her curiously as he stood aside and motioned her into the kitchen. Very deliberately he lighted the lamp and listened in silence until she had finished. Then, coolly, he eyed her from top to toe: "'Pears to me I've saw you before," he announced. "Over on the trail, a while back. An' you was a-ridin' with--Monk Bethune." "Well?" asked the girl, angered by the man's tone. "Well," mocked Pierce. "So to-night's the night yer figgerin' on pullin' the raid, is it?" "I'm figuring on pulling the raid! What do you mean?" "I mean you, an' Bethune, an' yer gang. You be'n up a-spottin' the lay, so's to tip 'em off, an' now you come down here an' tell me the Old Man's worst so's I'll take out to town fer the doc--an' one less posse-man in the hills. Yer a pretty slick article, Miss, but it hain't a-goin' to work." Patty listened, speechless with rage. When the man finished she found her tongue. "You--you accuse me of being a--a horse-thief?" she choked. "Yup," answered the man. "That's it--an' not so fur off, neither. Don't you s'pose I know that if the Old Man was worst one of his own boys would of be'n a foggin' it fer town hisself? I'd ort to take an' lock you up in the root cellar an' turn you over to Vil Holland, but I guess if we get all the he ones out of yer gang we kin leave you loose. 'Tain't likely you could run off no horses single-handed." A woman whose appearance showed an evident hasty toilet had stepped from an inner room, and stood listening to the man. Patty was about to appeal to her when, from the outside came
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