Mary, white and shaking, though with a calmness that came from the knowledge that in this crisis she must do what she could, went inside and stood behind Owen, ready to respond to any call he might make upon her.

Owen, his rage somewhat abated, though he still watched Dale and his men with sullen, malevolent eyes, had changed his position. Mary had brought a chair, and Owen sat on it, the rifle still resting on the window-sill, menacing the men.

The minutes, it seemed to the girl, pa.s.sed with exceeding slowness.

She watched the hands of a clock on a shelf in the room drag themselves across the face of the dial, and twice she walked in front of the shelf and peered intently at the clock, to be certain it was going.

Williams and the other men had been gone for something more than an hour. But, as Owen had said, they would travel slowly, having no incentive for haste. Sanderson, on the other hand, would make Streak run his best--and she knew Streak could run.

So she began to estimate the time that would elapse before Sanderson and Williams returned. With an hour's start, she gave Sanderson three-quarters of an hour to catch them. Then, three quarters of an hour additional would be required for the run home--if they came back as swiftly as Sanderson had gone.

But she doubted that. She would give them a full hour for the return trip. That would make an hour and three quarters.

But it seemed to her that an age elapsed before the minute hand on the clock dragged itself one-quarter of the distance around the circle.

She looked out at Dale and his men. The men were all standing, their backs to the house. But it seemed to the girl that they were standing nearer to one another than they had been all along, and a pulse of trepidation ran over her.

Watching them closely, Mary felt they were meditating some action.

They were whispering to one another, and Dale was gesturing as emphatically as he could.

The girl was certain they contemplated concerted action of some sort, and she was just about to apprise Owen of her fears, when she saw one of the men--and then another and another--working with the ropes that bound them. One of the men turned, a huge grin on his face. She caught the flash of metal in the man's hands, saw the rope fall from them, severed.

She shouted, then, at Owen:

"Look out, Barney; they've got a knife!"

At the instant she spoke the men moved as though by prearrangement. By the time her voice reached Owen's ears the men had scattered, running in all directions. Several ran directly away from the house, others toward it, some went toward the corners of the building nearest them.

All were running zigzag fashion.

Owen, his eyes blazing, fired three times in rapid succession. One of the men tumbled, headlong, turning over several times and landing face downward on the sand of the yard; but several others, apparently uninjured, ran straight for the ranchhouse.

There were no stationary targets for Owen to shoot at. By the time he had fired the three shots the men were all moving. Several the girl saw as they ran around the ranchhouse; three or four others ran straight for the door in which she stood.

She cried sharply to Owen, and the latter fired once, as three or four figures crossed the porch. The girl could not tell whether or not Dale was one of the three, for the men moved quickly.

Owen missed; Mary heard him curse. And before he had time to do either again the men were inside. Mary was standing near Owen, and she had reached down for one of the pistols that lay on the floor.

By the time the men entered the door she had raised the weapon, and as the first figure burst through the opening, she leveled the weapon and pulled the trigger.

The gun went off, but did no apparent damage, and before she could fire again the men were upon her. She threw the heavy weapon into the face of the man nearest her--she did not look at him; and ran through the nearest door, which opened into the kitchen. She heard the man curse as the weapon struck him full in the face, and she knew, then, that she had struck Dale.

In the kitchen the girl hesitated. She would have gone outside, on the chance that the men there might not see her, but, hesitating at the kitchen door, she saw a big man running toward it.

So she turned and ran into the room she used as a pantry, slamming the door behind her, bolting it and leaning against it, breathing heavily.

She had not, however, escaped the eyes of the man who had been running toward the kitchen door. She heard Dale's voice, asking one of the men if he had seen her, and the latter answered:

"She ducked into the pantry and closed the door."

She heard a man step heavily across the kitchen floor, and an instant later he was shoving against the door with a shoulder.

"Bolted, eh?" he said with a short laugh. He walked away, and presently returned. "Well, you'll keep," he said, "there ain't any windows."

She knew from his voice that the man was Dale. He had gone outside and had seen there was no escape for her except through the door she had barred.

There came a silence except for the movements of the men, and the low hum of their voices. She wondered what had become of Owen, but she did not dare unbolt the door for fear that Dale might be waiting on the other side of it. So, in the grip of a nameless terror she leaned against the door and waited.

She heard Dale talking to his men; he was standing near the door behind which she stood, and she could hear him distinctly.

"You guys. .h.i.t the breeze after Sanderson. Kill him,--an' anybody that's with him! Wipe out the whole bunch! I'll stay here an' make the girl tell me where the coin is. Get goin', an' go fast, for Sanderson will travel some!"

The girl heard the boots of the men clatter on the floor as they went out. Listening intently, she could hear the thudding of their horses'

hoofs as they fled. She shrank back from the door, looking hard at it, wondering if it would hold, if it would resist Dale's efforts to burst it open--as she knew he would try to do.

She wished, now, that she had followed Sanderson's suggestion about riding after Williams. This situation would not have been possible, then.

Working feverishly, she piled against the door all the available articles and objects she could find. There were not many of them, and they looked a pitifully frail barricade to her.

A silence that followed was endured with her cringing against the barricade. She had a hope that Dale would search for the money--that he would find it, and go away without attempting to molest her. But when she heard his step just outside the door, she gave up hope and stood, her knees shaking, awaiting his first movement.

It came quickly enough. She heard him; saw the door give just a trifle as he leaned his weight against it.

The movement made her gasp, and he heard the sound.

"So you're still there, eh? Well, I thought you would be. Open the door!"

"Dale," she said, desperately, "get out of here! I'll tell you where the money is--I don't want it."

"All right," he said, "where is it?"

"It's in the parlor; the packages are stuffed between the springs of the lounge."

He laughed, jeeringly.

"That dodge don't go," he said in a voice that made her feel clammy all over. "If it's there, all right. I'll get it. But the money can wait. Open the door!"

"Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in here I shall kill you!"

"That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too.

Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now--this door ain't so thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!"

Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in the kitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided the pantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized that the part.i.tion did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to a height only a few feet above her head.

She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked at the top of the part.i.tion, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. It dangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared, with his hands gripping the top of the wall.

She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had only succeeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body over the wall and dropped lightly beside her.

She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waiting for him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and striking his face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others.

He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking her impotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutally to her sides, where he held them--trying to grip them in one of his; but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes.