Darkness found Gale in much the same position she had occupied through the rainstorm, standing beside her horse and gently stroking his nozzle. The rain had stopped but she was uncomfortably wet. She wondered whether this was a climate where one caught colds easily. If so, she would probably have a dandy tomorrow. The horse shifted his feet impatiently and nudged her shoulder.

She smiled at him. “Impatient to be off, old boy? So am I. Something tells me that this is going to be a night of excitement. I wonder if I’m being foolhardy in spying on these fellows. I might be, you know,” she said seriously to the horse. He nodded his head as though in agreement. “Oh, so you think I’m foolhardy, do you? But on the other hand, I might be able to help Uncle. What do you think, old fellow?”

The horse shook his head and whinnied softly. “Please don’t do that,” she said hastily, a hand on his nose. “If you make such a noise you might bring those men out to investigate and that wouldn’t be lucky for either you or me.”

The stars came out and with them the moon. The bright moonlight made Gale frown in annoyance. Any other time she would have marveled at the white radiance of Mr. Moon, but now it was indiscreet. The cabin where she was to do her spying stood squarely in the center of a large patch of moonlight. There would be no skulking in darkness close to it. If she hoped to get close enough to peer in a window or to hear what was being said, she would not only have to cross that moonlit space but to stand in the white light, clearly visible to anyone coming to the cabin. Well, she had made up her mind what she wanted to do and now she was going through with it.

She wondered what her friends were thinking at her absence. She wished there was some way she could let them know she was safe and sound. But in an hour or two she would be on her way back to them with information that might be valuable. She wished she had a good supper, though. That was what ailed her horse too, he was hungry. Through the trees she could see that there was a light in the cabin and smoke curled from the chimney. Loud voices too, could be heard. Perhaps they were planning something this very minute. Making sure her horse was securely tied to a tree, Gale started slowly toward the cabin. It would be a ticklish business and goodness knew what might happen if she was caught. She approached the rear of the cabin but it was no good to take up a post here. The window was too high for her to see in and the voices were merely an indistinguishable blur through the thick wall.

Before the cabin stood six horses, reins hanging and their heads drooped forward. Six horses! That meant there were six riders in the cabin. Coming around the corner of the cabin, Gale trod heavily on a twig and it snapped loudly. She stood still on the verge of flight, her heart racing. But when no one came she realized that they were making too much noise to hear such a slight sound. Evidently it was an occasion for celebration for they all seemed in high spirits.

The window where she had meant to make her observations was closed but the door stood ajar. It was perilous looking in at the window, for any moment one of them might glance toward the glass and see her. Gale discovered that, pressed flat against the wall beside the open door, she could hear everything being said, though she could not see the occupants. It was the latter position that she took. Making herself as flat as possible against the rough logs, so there was scarcely risk of detection as long as the men remained indoors, Gale strained her ears to make sense of the conversation.

Suddenly their voices lowered, tones became confiding and mysterious. Now Gale could distinguish only snatches of what was being said. She slid a little closer to the open door.

“Pedro will stay here,” one man said sternly. “Three of you will tend to the cows and the two of us will scout around to that dude camp and see what’s goin’ on.”

Gale wondered if there was another party of easterners camping in the hills, or did those words “dude camp” apply to her and her friends? Quite possibly they did. But why were these men interested in what they did?

“They’re too near the cattle to suit me,” one of the other outlaws said in a deep rumbling voice. “Suppose they see us? Then they’ll be able to give a nice little description to the Sheriff.” He didn’t sound like an original westerner, Gale thought. More like a gangster of the movie type. Another voice joined in, soft and slurring. A Mexican, probably a half-breed, she decided mentally. For a while she could catch no more of what they said and then only a word here and there. But finally she knew enough that they planned to steal more of the K Bar O cattle. Should she go now and tell Jim and Tom so they could forestall the thieves? No, she would wait longer. Perhaps there was something more she could learn. Where they were taking the cattle for instance. As though in reply to her thoughts, the Mexican spoke again.

“You should have the cows across the border by morning.”

But there seemed to be some little dispute about this. Three of the men started arguing. There was a step near her and a man’s shadow fell on the ground where the light from the doorway streamed out. He was standing in the doorway looking across to the trees. If he turned an inch more in her direction he would see her. Gale held her breath and leaned stiffly against the wall. He must hear her heart beating so loudly. It sounded like thunder in her own ears. Tossing his cigarette out to the ground the man turned and stepped back into the cabin again. Gale almost sank to the ground in sheer relief. Pure luck, that was all it had been, that kept the man from sensing her presence. If he had stepped just a bit farther out, or turned just a bit more in her direction, she would have been discovered. And then what would have happened? She refused to think about that. Cautiously she moved a few paces away from the door. There was no need for her to invite exposure.

Heavy steps sounded in the cabin and with lightning rapidity Gale disappeared around the corner of the building and none too soon. Two of the riders strode to their horses and mounted.

“Follow in an hour, Shorty,” one of them called and the two departed.

Were they the two who were going to investigate the camp, she wondered. She hoped her friends would have some warning of the men’s approach and were able to prepare themselves. She would like to have followed them but she meant to stick here and see what happened. The rustlers were leaving one man at the cabin. Why? What further than robbery did they plot? Were they planning to return here and use the cabin as their hiding place after the K Bar O cattle were safely across the border? If that was it, she wanted to know so she could send the Sheriff and his men here and be sure it was no wild goose chase.

The moon was high overhead and moving slowly toward the west. Gale had no means of knowing what time it was for she wore no wrist watch, but she judged it to be about midnight. She would say it was an hour since the two riders had left, but still the other three had not followed them. The four of them were having a high old time, she reflected as a loud laugh floated out to her. She seated herself on the ground and leaned against the wall. Might as well be comfortable while she waited for something to happen. She was at the side, safe from immediate discovery should they come out without warning. But it would be better not to remain seated here, should she hear them, for it might just happen that they would come around this side.

Suddenly the loud talking came to an end and there was a scraping as of chairs on the floor. Three men came to the door and walked leisurely to their horses. Gale was peeping around from the back of the cabin now and she watched them as they rode away. There remained now only one man in the cabin. Cautiously she went around to the window at the front. Slowly she brought her eyes up to the level of the windowsill and gazed in. The Mexican--she had been right as to his nationality she realized now--sat before the fireplace, his chair tilted back, his feet propped on the table. In his hands he held a stick of wood and a knife and he whistled as he sent the chips flying. His profile was toward Gale and she shivered at the ugliness of his countenance.

“Wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark alley,” she reflected to herself as she studied him. A long scar ran down his cheek, making his profile even more repulsive than it would ordinarily have been. “Something definite with which to identify him, that scar,” she told herself as she left the window.

The moon as it moved westward caused a dark, heavy shadow on the far side of the cabin and Gale stepped into its protecting blackness. A sudden thought of her horse occurred to her and she went back to where he was tied to see if he was secure and safe. There was no telling when she might want him in a hurry. She might have to leave suddenly, she thought humorously. She returned to the cabin and sat down in the protecting shadow. She wondered if there was a harder thing in the world than the job of waiting. Her eyes were growing uncomfortably heavy and the danger of falling asleep was very near. She smothered a yawn and stood up. If she fell asleep now!

What was that? The gallop of hoofs? It was. And they were coming to the cabin here. Who was it? The outlaws coming back from their nightly marauding? Or could it, by some inconceivable magic, be Tom or Jim looking for her? Somehow she had not expected them to. At any rate not at night. Of course if she didn’t return to camp by the morning, no doubt they would go out to look for her. But she planned to be safely among them by morning. Meanwhile, those horses were drawing nearer. At last they came into the moonlight from the direction she herself had come early that afternoon.

There were two horses but it looked as though one horse was carrying a double load. Gale’s interest was aroused. Who was it? The horses were pulled up short in front of the cabin and Gale flattened herself against the wall. She did not have as good a view of the new arrivals as she might have wished for, but she could catch glimpses of them and she could hear their voices. Right now they seemed anything but pleased. They were having trouble with something--or someone.

“Let me go!”

Out of the thin air, it seemed to Gale, she heard Valerie’s voice. Valerie here! How did she get here? Was she on the horse with one of the outlaws? That must be the explanation of the double burden one of the horses was carrying. In some way, the men had kidnapped Valerie and brought her here. Gale rejoiced inwardly now that she had stayed, but her heart leapt and her hands clenched the next second when she heard what sounded like a slap and a half smothered scream from Valerie.

“Maybe that’ll keep you quiet for a while,” one of the men said.

Gale longed to rush out and interfere on Valerie’s behalf but she knew how foolish that would be. She could only wait for an opportunity and pray that they did not seriously harm Val. That it should be Valerie made it all the more tragic in Gale’s estimation. If it had been Phyllis or Madge or Virginia, one more able to stand rough handling and hardship, Gale would have been more optimistic about her chances. But with Val she was worried. She, Gale, had to help her friend, but how?

Carefully she approached her post by the window and looked in. Valerie was seated in a chair by the fireplace and the Mexican was approaching with two straps from the saddle lying in the corner. He proceeded to strap Val’s hands to the chair posts. The other two riders watched him for a moment and then came toward the door. Gale hastily retreated and did not appear again until their horses were lost in the black trees. Back at the window she watched, while the Mexican walked slowly around his captive, deliberately appraising her. The door was closed and she could not hear what was being said, but it was evident that Valerie was saying uncomplimentary things for the breed’s face was growing blacker and blacker with rage.

It was Gale’s intention to call the Mexican from the cabin on some ruse and while he was out slip in and cut Val free. But for that purpose she would need a knife. She ran back to her horse. In her saddle bag she carried a knife and, while she was here, it would be just as well to move her horse up closer to the cabin. If she and Val had to make a dash for it, it would be well not to have to run too far. Leaving her horse standing at the rim of the open space where the cabin was, she approached the window again. Now she had to think of a ruse to get the Mexican out of the cabin.

The light in the cabin was from the fire in the fireplace and from two lanterns which cast a sickly yellow glow over the occupants of the building and the meager furnishings. Gale could see the Mexican bending over Val, leering at her. She could see Val’s bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever the Mexican was saying to taunt her, it had thoroughly aroused Val’s temper. She saw Val’s lips move and wished desperately that she might hear what the girl said. But the walls of the cabin were thick and the windows and doors closed, effectively smothering all sound. The Mexican’s hand shot out and struck Val a heavy blow across the cheek, bringing a dark red stain to the white skin.

Gale saw Val’s head droop until her chin rested on her chest. What was wrong? Was she going to cry now, of all times? It was just what the Mexican wanted, to make her grovel. Evidently the Mexican thought he had subdued all signs of rebellion in his fair prisoner for he bent closer with a sneering smile. But it was a trick! When the Mexican bent over, Val’s foot shot up and kicked him hard in the pit of the stomach. He stumbled backward, doubled over in pain.

Gale could have danced in delight. Three cheers for Val! Her fighting blood was up. Gale found herself a little surprised at Val’s daring. Val had more courage than the girls had given her credit for. But now would come a reckoning. The Mexican was straightening up, his face still contorted with pain, and drawing a knife from his belt. He took two steps toward Val, caressing the knife with loving fingers. If Val was afraid, she gave no sign of it and for that Gale admired her all the more. She was quite well aware that had she been in Val’s place she would have been scared green. The Mexican looked awfully intent on doing a bit of carving.

As for Val, she was frightened. The light in the half-breed’s eyes and the way he held the knife sent little shivers up her back. She twisted vainly at the bonds about her hands. Must she sit here while he stuck his knife into her? But for all her terror, she gave no sign of it. Her head was high and her gaze steady.

“Ah! You are brave my leetle one!” the Mexican said with his slurring accent. “But you weel not be so brave w’en I have--what eez that?”

To Val’s ears it sounded like hoofbeats. She prayed earnestly that it was. Even if it was but the other two bandits coming back, it would delay the Mexican’s knife a little longer.

Gale, recognizing that the Mexican sought revenge for that kick and was intent upon securing that revenge with his knife, cast about quickly for some means of getting him from the cabin. Her eyes came round from the window to the Mexican’s horse standing meekly a few paces away. She crossed to him, pulled the reins up over his head and gave him a sharp slap on the flank. The horse started forward with a jerk and Gale disappeared around the side of the cabin. With the sound of the hoofbeats the door of the cabin was pulled open and the Mexican stepped to the ground. Gale could see him staring after his horse, but he made no effort to chase the animal as she had hoped he would. He stood there for several minutes until the horse had disappeared and then with a smothered exclamation of disgust or wrath stalked back into the cabin. Her ruse had failed. He didn’t apparently care what happened to his horse. Now what was she going to do? Val needed help and she, Gale, must do something. She didn’t have time to go for Jim or Tom. She would have to handle the Mexican herself, and hope that she and Val would have a fighting chance. If he should foil her attempt at rescue, then they would both be his helpless prisoners and anything might happen! She laughed nervously at her own lack of confidence. She wasn’t very optimistic at any rate. However, they would see--what they would see.

She peeped in the window again. The Mexican was wiping the blade of his knife carefully on his shirt sleeve. She knew he was so deliberately cool and slow just to keep Valerie in suspense and to undermine her courage. She looked at her friend. Valerie’s color had faded a bit and her eyes were a little more luminous, but not with fear. She saw Val’s lips move again but she didn’t know that Val had said:

“Well, why don’t you get it over with?”

“In time, my leetle one, in time,” Pedro laughed.

“If you don’t hurry my friends might arrive and spoil your little party,” Valerie continued imperturbably.

He laughed again. “They weel not come here, my friend.”

“Yes they will,” Valerie said coolly, “and when they do, you will look very handsome--at the end of a rope.”

“Rope?” he pretended not to understand her.

“Yes, a rope,” Valerie said bluntly, “for they will hang you to the highest limb of the nearest tree and your friends with you!”

He laughed, albeit a tiny gleam of fear had flickered for a moment in his eyes.

“But I weel not be here,” he said smoothly. “And you, my preety flower, will not be able to tell them w’ere I have gone.”

Valerie swallowed with difficulty. The fellow was getting on her nerves. He knew her story about her friends coming had been a bluff and he was gloating over the fact. If something didn’t happen soon, her nerve would go to pieces.