BLACK GEORGE'S WARNING.

The Yankee spotter was in the treasure house of Ranch Robin.

There were shelves in the little room, the walls of which seemed to be made of iron, and the detective leaned forward and looked with all his vision.

He saw wealth everywhere.

There were sacks of coin and bars of gold.

Belle Demona stood by his side and held the light so as to let him take in all this scene.

For some time not a word was spoken.

Old Broadbrim looked around the chamber and saw that it was well guarded against attack from without.

The robbers of the desert might burn the buildings overhead, and miss the treasure which would be safe despite the flames.

"Isn't it worth fighting for?" asked Belle Demona.

The detective nodded and continued to gaze at the alluring sight.

"Would you know how much is here? I scarcely know. None of us can tell. The wealth is almost fabulous, for sheep raising in Australia is profitable, and here one turns one's money fast. But it is worth fighting for against all the ranch plunderers in the land. A part of it is yours, Riggs, if you stand by us."

Her words were in the nature of an appeal, and the detective heard her through without answering.

"You're not afraid to swear loyalty to the bitter end?" she went on. "We are one here. Our interests are the same, and we must defend the ranch to the last."

Old Broadbrim looked into her face and caught the light that filled it with eagerness.

"Merle may be in danger from another point," she resumed, coming close to him and suddenly dropping her voice. "In the first place, he has incurred the hatred of a young girl who carries a knife. Then, he recently crossed the sea to do me a service, and made enemies there. He is in danger. You must stand by Merle, Riggs."

"I understand, but if Merle made enemies across the sea they would hardly follow him to the bush."

"Ah, you don't know these trackers. You have heard, perhaps, of them, but you don't know the ferrets of London and America. They may follow him even to Ranch Robin and may make it warm for him. But we will be on the alert, and the first detective to step upon my land, dies like a dog!"

Her beautiful face came very close to Old Broadbrim's, and the detective retreated a step.

"I'll kill him on sight!" she went on, her voice becoming a hiss. "No shadower comes to Ranch Robin to pursue his calling and lives! We must stand together, Riggs. I like you for your bravery and spirit. You saved Merle's life last night, and Merle will pay you back one of these days."

"I've been paid back already; I don't want his gold. I am but a guardsman, and I'll see that he is guarded against all his foes as long as I remain here."

"That's it. No oath is needed by you, Riggs. You're worth all the gold in this chamber, and I'll see that you're rewarded. But woe to the tracker! Woe to the ferret who comes to Ranch Robin to play out his hand!"

Five minutes later the detective stood in the upper room and looked beyond the porch.

He was thinking fast.

At the first opportunity he quitted the house, and mounting his horse, rode off over the fields.

Across the bridge he rode and on beyond the sheep lands.

He wanted to be alone.

At last he sat on his steed with the landscape stretching beyond him in marvelous beauty.

A light wind, ladened with the scent of flowers, came to his nostrils, and he admired the scene for some time in utter silence.

Presently there appeared in the high grass, some distance from the spot where he had stopped, a figure that looked like a creeping Indian.

He watched it till it vanished, and then kept his gaze riveted upon the place of its disappearance.

He knew that the natives of Australia were dangerous people, that sometimes they play highwaymen with deadly effect, and now and then leave their victims lying in the sun with an arrow in their hearts.

Old Broadbrim looked keenly at the spot he had selected, and at last saw a bit of white rag floating over the grass.

It looked like a signal, and he regarded it some time in deep reflection.

What did it mean, and was it a decoy?

By and by he rode toward the object, and at last drew rein just out of arrow shot.

The little flag dropped as suddenly as it had come into view, and then a man, half-naked, zigzagged through the grass toward him.

Old Broadbrim waited, with his hand on his revolver.

In a little time the man arose and stood erect—a tall, wiry, dark-skinned native, with great black eyes and a shock of raven hair.

He sprang to where the detective was and rested his large hand on his knee.

"They come to-night, captain," he said.

"Who—the bandits?"

"Captain Blacklocks and his robbers."

"You have seen them, then? Where are they?"

"Over the hills there," was the answer. "They are getting ready for the swoop. They will burn the houses and strip the woman's treasury. You must fight for your lives."

"It is to be 'no quarter,' is it?"

"No quarter," cried the native. "That is what they say. Blacklocks was shot last night by one of the guards of the ranch, and he will have revenge. They intend to murder all on the ranch, whom they outnumber ten to one."

Old Broadbrim looked down into the man's face and asked his name.

"I am Black George," was the reply. "I overheard the robbers this morning, and I want to save the lady of the ranch. For Captain Merle I don't care so much, but for Belle Demona I would fight if I had the opportunity."

"Then come back with me and enlist with us."

"No! You will probably find me in the fight when it comes off; but I can't take service under Captain Merle."

"Why can't you?"

"I—don't—like—the man."

"Very well. We will hold the ranch to the last," said Old Broadbrim. "If Blacklocks knew this perhaps he would postpone his swoop."

"Not he! You don't know him," cried Black George. "He has sworn a great oath that by to-morrow not one of you shall be alive, and that the gold in the treasure house shall be in the pockets of his bandits."

The native cast a hasty glance over the landscape behind him and drew back.

"Get ready for the storm. It will come to-night," he finished; and in another second Old Broadbrim saw him withdraw.

Slowly the detective rode back to the ranch.

He dismounted in front of the dwelling house and stood face to face with both Merle and Belle Demona.

He delivered his information, and saw the face of Merle lose a little color, and the woman's eyes suddenly flash.

"Let them come!" she cried. "We will defend the ranch to the bitter end. With you, Riggs, and the rest of the new recruits, we will meet these nighthawks and clip their wings. But who warned us?"

"Black George."

"That rascal?" cried Merle. "Why, that's the man I caught stealing sheep last summer and had whipped on the scene of his rascality. I don't like him."

"There's no love lost between you, then," smiled Old Broadbrim. "But the bandits will attack us."

"Yes, they will come. We must prepare, and if the worst comes we will spring the mine," said the ranch queen.

As she finished she beckoned to Old Broadbrim and led him into her boudoir.

Opening a little door in the wall, she pointed to what looked like a bit of string hanging from above.

"That is the fuse," said she. "It is to be fired at the last extremity. It means death and destruction to all inside Ranch Robin at the time."

"Where is the mine?"

"Directly under us. There is powder enough to deal death to every living thing within a radius of half a mile; it will be involving friend and foe in a terrible burial. You see what chances we took when we came to this place? It was a desperate throw of the dice, but we wanted a home where we would be safe against the keen men of the trails of two worlds, and but for the robbers of the deserts we would be happy. I have had my revenge. Merle carried out my commands, and the enemy who insulted me felt the hand of the avenger."

She shut the little door in the wall and turned away.

Old Broadbrim took particular note of the situation of the secret door, and walked with Belle Demona from the room.

Merle Macray turned from the front window and caught the detective's eye.

"This way, Riggs," said he, and they stepped out upon the porch.

"Did you find her?" he asked eagerly.

Old Broadbrim kept cool and shook his head.

"I have found foot tracks near the old sheep sheds. I even entered them a while ago and looked around. She has been there, and I found a man's footprints in the dust under the old roofs."

"Oh, I went over there in hopes of finding her, and——"

"Then you must have missed her, for her tracks are strangely mixed with yours. If you had watched a little longer, Riggs, you might have got the twist on her neck. I'm going to fire the sheds at sundown. They will burn like tinder boxes, and that will deprive this fair viper of a shelter, and perhaps the coming foe of an ambush."

A shudder passed over the detective's frame at this, and he thought of the girl in the hay.

She must be warned; but how?

He knew that a match would start the old sheds like a wisp of flax, and that before Stareyes could escape she would be caught by the flames and destroyed.

"Riggs, the more I look at you the more familiar grows your face," suddenly resumed the hunted man. "I once saw a man like you, but it was not in Australia. It is strange how these resemblances overtake and puzzle us. I can't account for it."

"Whom do I look like? Can't you make out, Captain Merle?"

Merle fell back a step and gazed at the detective.

He slowly shook his head.

"I can't quite make out," said he. "But if you were the man I don't want to see just now, I'd kill you in your tracks. Never mind, Riggs. You're all right, but still you look like some one I don't like. It's the way of the world, and we find it so even in the bush."

Merle laughed, and the detective, without a change of countenance, kept his nerve and looked straight into the face before him.

It seemed the shadow of death all the time.