athletic. She fought. She struggled desperately. But he forced
her back with hands of iron. She had never known a man could be
so strong. And then it was the man's coolly smiling face, the
paralyzing strangeness of his manner, more than his strength,
that weakened Madeline until she sank trembling against the
bench.

"What--do you--mean?" she panted.

"Dearie, ease up a little on the bridle," he replied, gaily.

Madeline thought she must be dreaming. She could not think
clearly. It had all been too swift, too terrible for her to
grasp. Yet she not only saw this man, but also felt his powerful
presence. And the shaking priest, the haze of blue smoke, the
smell of powder--these were not unreal.

Then close before her eyes burst another blinding red flash, and
close at her ears bellowed another report. Unable to stand,
Madeline slipped down onto the bench. Her drifting faculties
refused clearly to record what transpired during the next few
moments; presently, however, as her mind steadied somewhat, she
heard, though as in a dream, the voice of the padre hurrying over
strange words. It ceased, and then the cowboy's voice stirred
her.

"Lady, say Si--Si. Say it--quick! Say it--Si!"

From sheer suggestion, a force irresistible at this moment when
her will was clamped by panic, she spoke the word.