lyin' dog, an' my spirit's
turned ter water!" He leaped up and paced back and forth across the
little room like a caged panther.

Hank cleared his throat, his painted face terrible to look upon. "Hell!"
he growled, squirming on his box. "Them as know ye, Tom Boyd, know ye
ain't neither dog ner liar! Takes a good man ter stand what ye have, day
arter day, feelin' like you do, an' keep from chokin' th' life outer
him. We've all took his insults, swallered 'em whole without no salt; ye
wouldn't say _all_ o' us war dogs an' liars, would ye? Tell ye what;
we've been purty clost, you an' me--suppose I slip back from th'
Canadian an' git his ears fer ye? 'Twon't be no trouble, an' I won't be
gone long. Reckon ye'd feel airy better then?"

Zeb moved forward on his cask. "That's you, Hank Marshall!" he exclaimed
eagerly. "I'm with ye! He spit in my face two days ago, an' I want his
ha'r. Good fer you, ol' beaver!"

For the next hour the argument waxed hot, one against three, and
Armstrong had to come in and caution them twice. It was Jim Ogden who
finally changed sides and settled the matter in Tom's favor.

"Hyar! We're nigh fightin' over a dog that ain't worth a cuss!" he
exclaimed. "Mebby Tom will be comin' back ter Bent's afore winter sets
in. Then we kin go ter Green River by th' way o' this town, stoppin'
hyar a day ter git Salezar's ears. Won't do Tom no good if us boys git
th' skunk. If ye don't close yer traps, cussed if I won't go out an' git
him now, an' then hell shore will pop afore th' caravan gits away. Ain't
ye got no sense, ye bloodthirsty Injuns?"

CHAPTER XXI

THE KIDNAPPING

Patience and her Mexican escort rode out of the town along the trail to
Taos Valley, the road leading up the mountain and past her favorite
retreat. She could not resist the cool of the morning hours and the
temptation to pay one more visit to the little niche in the mountain
side. The few farewell calls that she had to make could wait until the
afternoon. They were duties rather than pleasures and the shorter she
could make them the better she would like it. She passed the mud houses
of the soldiers and soon left the city behind. At intervals on the
wretched road she met and smiled at the friendly muleteers and gave
small coins to the toddling Mexican and Indian children before the
wretched hovels scattered along the way. Well before noon she reached
the little nook and unpacked the lunch she had brought along. Sharing i