"What right have you to say that? You were never anything to me except just what you are, a creature capable of almost any deed of villainy.

I only met you two or three times in my life, and why should you presume to think that you had won my affection?"

"Well, if ye think I'm bad to the core, I will soon show you that I am.

It's no use, I see, to beat about the bush any longer. If I can't get you one way I will another, an' I'll have you ahead of that d---- guy who has won your heart. You're here alone with me, remember, an'

that's all I want."

Curly had thrown aside all pretense now, and his face bore an ugly expression as he stepped quickly forward. But it was only a step or two he took, for he stopped short with a surprised jerk when he beheld the menacing point of a revolver directed straight at his head. The hand that held the weapon was firm, and the blaze in Glen's eyes was sufficient warning. This was more than he had expected, and he knew not what to do.

"Keep back," the girl ordered.

"Surely ye wouldn't shoot, Miss?" the brute whimpered.

"Take another step forward and you'll soon find out." The voice was stern and business-like.

"But I won't harm ye."

"No, indeed you won't. I'll see to that."

"I was only foolin'," the wretch lied. "I didn't mean anything."

"Well, I'm not fooling, and I mean what I say. You thought in your base heart that I would be an easy victim, didn't you? But you now know that Glen Weston has some of her father's spirit. She can shoot, too, and if you doubt it, just try any more of your nonsense."

Curly was in a trap, and when he found that this slip of a girl was more than his match he started to give vent to his rage in vile, insolent language.

"Stop that," Glen sternly ordered. "It is bad enough to have you here without having to listen to such language. Stop; I say," she again commanded, as Curly was about to continue. "Yes, I mean it, so you needn't doubt my word. And you might as well put your hands together.

Hurry up; I give you two seconds. You are not to be trusted."

Slowly Curly obeyed, and stood before the girl, his hands clasped, and completely subdued. A smile of victory flitted across Glen's face, though her eyes and mouth were expressive of the deepest scorn.

"You didn't expect this, did you?" she bantered.

"Expect what?"

"To be standing so meekly before a woman. You imagined that she would be doing that to you."

"You're not a woman," Curly growled; "you're a she-devil."

"Oh, so you've changed your opinion of me," and Glen laughed. "I am very glad of that, for you won't be crazy about me any more."

"Crazy! Your face an' figure would drive any man crazy."

"Dear me, do I look as horrible as all that? It's a wonder you are not a raving lunatic."

"I will if you keep me here much longer. Let me go an' I'll never trouble you again. That slick guy can have you fer all I care. I don't want anything to do with a woman who holds ye up at the point of a gun."

"No, I am sure you don't, Curly. You prefer to prey upon women who are helpless, and who cannot lift a hand in self-defense. But I am different, as you have found out to your cost."

"Let me go, will ye?" the wretch pleaded. "I've had enough of this."

"Oh, have you, eh? Well, that's interesting. But, look here, I am not through with you yet. You came here without any invitation, though in a way I am glad that you did come, and I intend to keep you here for a while."

"H'm, ye must like my company after all," Curly sneered. "You're a queer one."

"Yes, I like your company at present better than your absence," Glen confessed. "I know just where you are, and that you can do no mischief while you are under my charge. If I should let you go now it would be an injustice to others. You must settle this affair with my father, and you know what that will mean."

"I'm not worryin' about yer dad, or anyone else," Curly replied.

"He'll have all he can attend to without botherin' about me. Most likely he's in a hotter place now than ever he struck on earth."

Into Glen's eyes leaped an expression of wild fear, as the meaning of Curly's words dawned upon her.

"Ye understand?" Curly sneered. "Two can play at this game, remember, an' mebbe more'n two."

"Was that your partner who followed my father?"

"Sure. It was Dan, an' he means business."

"What business?"

"Oh, Dan'll tell ye when he comes back."

"Do you mean that he intends to shoot my father and Mr. Reynolds?"

"Mr. Reynolds!" Curly mockingly repeated. "Yes, Mr. Reynolds, too."

Glen's outstretched arm was tired, but these words renewed her strength, and her fingers clutched more firmly the b.u.t.t of the revolver. Curly was fully aware that the girl was becoming wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and he regretted that he had told her anything about Dan. What might not this girl do? he asked himself. In fact he was very near death just then, for Glen in her agitation was unconsciously pressing the trigger slightly with her forefinger. But Curly knew, and his face blanched.

"Fer G.o.d's sake, be careful what yer doin'!" he screamed. "That gun'll go off, if ye don't look out!"

"Perhaps it might be well if it did," was the reply. "I am strongly tempted to shoot you where you stand. But I guess I will wait until Sconda comes back. And then, remember, if my father and Mr. Reynolds are dead, you die, and at my hands at that. You can remain just where you are, and I shall guard you, even if I have to wait here all day."

"But I can't stand here," Curly whined. "Let me sit down."

"No, you must stay just where you are, and keep your hands clasped. I shall sit down, though," and Glen seated herself upon the doorstep.

Curly started to remonstrate, but was sternly checked.

"I do not wish to hear anything more," Glen emphatically told him.

"You can keep your thoughts and your words to yourself. And do not annoy me, or I might lose control of myself and do something rash."

Seeing that the girl was thoroughly in earnest, Curly said no more, but stood there with his eyes fixed straight forward. The only time Glen spoke was whenever she detected his look wavering in the slightest degree. Then she called him sharply to attention, and warned him to be mindful of what he was doing.

Thus slowly and wearily the morning wore away. With nerves strung to the highest tension, Glen guarded her prisoner, at the same time listening anxiously for the sound of Sconda's returning footsteps.

CHAPTER XXIV