"The real Bucky is handcuffed and guarded at Dead Man's Cache. I don't
think he's enjoying himself to-day."

"You're getting quite a collection of prisoners. You'll be starting a
penitentiary on your own account soon," she told him sharply.

"That's right. And I'm taking another one back with me to-night."

"Who is he?"

"It's a lady this time--Miss Melissy Lee."

His words shook her. An icy hand seemed to clamp upon her heart. The blood
ebbed even from her lips, but her brave eyes never faltered from his.

"So you war on women, too!"

He gave her his most ironic bow. "I don't war on you, my dear. You shall
have half of my kingdom, if you ask it--and all my heart."

"I can't use either," she told him quietly. "But I'm only a girl. If you
have a spark of manliness in you, surely you won't take me a prisoner
among those wild, bad men of yours."

"Those wild, bad men of mine are lambs when I give the word. They wouldn't
lift a hand against you. And there is a woman there--the mother of one of
my boys, who was shot. We'll have you chaperoned for fair."

"And if I say I won't go?"

"You'll go if I strap you to your saddle."

It was characteristic of Melissy that she made no further resistance. The
sudden, wolfish gleam in his eyes had told her that he meant what he said.
It was like her, too, that she made no outcry; that she did not shed tears
or plead with him. A gallant spirit inhabited that slim, girlish body; and
she yielded to the inevitable with quiet dignity. This surprised him
greatly, and stung his reluctant admiration. At the same time, it set her
apart from him and hedged her with spiritual barriers. Her body might
ride with him into captivity; she was still captain of her soul.

"You're a game one," he told her, as he helped her to the saddle.

She did not answer, but looked straightforward between her horse's ears,
without seeing him, waiting for him to give the word to start.

CHAPTER VI

IN DEAD MAN'S CACHE

Not since the start of their journey had Melissy broken silence, save to
answer, in few words as possible, the questions put to her by the outlaw.
Yet her silence had not been sullenness. It had been the barrier which she
had set up between them--one which he could not break down short of actual
roughness.

Of this she could not accuse him. Indeed, he had been thoughtful of her
comfort. At sunset they had stopped by a spring, and he had shared with
her such food as he had.