Guadalupe was a girl of spirit. Through her veins flowed the blood of fighting ancestors, and, when she felt herself so suddenly seized upon, she had no mind to give up her freedom without a struggle.

Wrenching herself free, she gave one scream. Before she could repeat it, she heard Tanto utter a fierce growl, and the next minute felt her captor fall.

Turning quickly to discover what had happened, she saw that Tanto had grasped her assailant by the throat, and that man and dog were engaged in a fierce fight upon the ground at her feet.

Even while she looked the man ceased to struggle and lay still.

Calling to the dog, Guadalupe started to leave the spot, but was prevented by the appearance of two more men. They both started back with surprise, at sight of the girl and dog, and the lifeless figure at their feet.

Turning from the prostrate form, Tanto drew back, facing the newcomers.

“Caramba!” exclaimed one. “Shoot the brute. I’ve left my pistol in the cave.”

“And I, too,” said the other. “I have nothing but my knife.”

“Well, then, use your knife. I’ll take care of the girl,” and he advanced upon Guadalupe.

But Tanto’s blood was up. Everyone but Guadalupe was an enemy. As he stood by the girl’s side, with lips drawn back and every hair erect, he was a foe to be considered. The taste of blood had made him wild. Before the speaker had taken five steps, the dog was at his throat. The force of the attack carried both dog and man to the ground, where for some seconds they fought desperately. But the unarmed peon was no match for the great beast. In a few minutes the conflict was over, and a second figure lay stretched upon the earth, while Guadalupe—unnerved by the sight—covered her face with her hands.

She was brought back to herself by a soft voice saying: “Call off your dog, seÑorita, and I will help you to get away from here.”

Guadalupe raised her eyes in surprise.

“You need have no fear,” the speaker continued. “I am not making war on women. Call off your dog, or I shall be obliged to kill him,” and Santiago, for it was he, drew a revolver from his breast.

Seeing that the man was armed, when he had declared to his companion that he was not, Guadalupe perceived that he must be friendly, and so called to the dog.

At first Tanto was not inclined to mind, but, after a second command, he left his last victim and placed himself at Guadalupe’s side.

“You can see I could kill your dog,” explained Santiago. “I could have killed him before. But I have no love for these,” and he gave the two bodies a contemptuous kick. “Keep your dog at your side and follow me before someone else comes.”

Even as Santiago spoke, they heard voices, and other men came crashing through the bushes some distance away.

“This way,” said Santiago, and he started in an opposite direction.

But they had no more than reached level ground than they heard voices on the other side.

“It is impossible for us to get away without being seen,” said Santiago. “Can you send the dog home?”

“Yes.”

“Then do so, and trust to me.”

Bending over Tanto, the girl said in a firm, low voice: “Go home, Tanto! Go home and bring my father!”

The dog looked at her earnestly for a moment and then at Santiago.

“Go!” again said Guadalupe, and she reached out and took Santiago’s hand. “No one is going to harm me.”

The dog gave a low whine, as though he perfectly understood, and bounded away through the underbrush. As he disappeared, Santiago fired his revolver into the air and advanced toward the approaching footsteps. A moment later a dozen of the smugglers appeared.

“What’s the meaning of this shooting?” asked the leader.

“Go to the top of yonder mound and see for yourself,” was Santiago’s reply.

Several of the men hastened to follow the instructions. They scrambled up the mound, where they recoiled in fright at the sight of their comrades.

“How did it happen?” asked the leader, as he returned to where Santiago and Guadalupe were standing.

“Ask the girl,” replied Santiago. “All I know is that I came up from the room below to bring an order to Louis and Leocadio, who are on guard at this place. I found them both as you see them. The girl and her dog were running away as fast as they could. I fired a shot at the dog, but missed him. I captured the girl, and am going to hold her for a ransom.”

The leader looked at him incredulously. Then to Guadalupe he said:

“How could a dog kill two men?”

Guadalupe looked at Santiago, but made no reply.

“Tell him,” said Santiago. “Tell Fillipe how it happened.”

“I don’t know,” declared Guadalupe. “One man seized me and Tanto sprang upon him. A few minutes later the other came.”

“Who is the girl?” asked Fillipe.

“She belongs at the Hacienda del Rio,” replied Santiago.

“Asi!” exclaimed Fillipe. “This is good news. Don Rafael will be glad to get her. Come along!”

He seized Guadalupe by the arm and started to lead her away, but Santiago interfered.

“Hands off!” he said. “She belongs to me. I’ll take her to Don Rafael, and, if there is any ransom, I shall have it.”

Although Santiago’s words were spoken in a low, soft tone, Fillipe obeyed, and the entire party left the place and proceeded by a circuitous route to the rear of the little chain of foothills which bordered the river. After a walk of some five or ten minutes they approached a clump of bushes in front of which a Mexican was standing guard. He stepped aside, and the men entered the bushes, which Guadalupe soon discovered concealed a door in the hillside. At a knock from Fillipe the door was opened, disclosing a passageway through which the men and their captive proceeded, closing the door behind them.

They had no sooner disappeared than two figures emerged stealthily from behind a jutting rock and threw themselves upon the guard, whom they quickly overcame and bound.

The two figures were Donald and Adrian.