Hawe put me in jail. I so frighten; he try make leetle love to
Bonita once, and now he hate me like he hate Senor Gene."

"Pat Hawe won't put you in jail. Take my horse and hit the
Peloncillo trail. Bonita, promise to stay away from El Cajon."

"Si, Senor."

He led her outside. Madeline heard the horse snort and champ his
bit. The cowboy spoke low; only a few words were intelligible--
"stirrups . . . wait . . . out of town . . . mountain . . . trail
. . . now ride!"

A moment's silence ensued, and was broken by a pounding of hoofs,
a pattering of gravel. Then Madeline saw a big, dark horse run
into the wide space. She caught a glimpse of wind-swept scarf
and hair, a little form low down in the saddle. The horse was
outlined in black against the line of dim lights. There was
something wild and splendid in his flight.

Directly the cowboy appeared again in the doorway.

"Miss Hammond, I reckon we want to rustle out of here. Been bad
goings-on. And there's a train due."

She hurried into the open air, not daring to look back or to
either side. Her guide strode swiftly. She had almost to run to
keep up with him. Many conflicting emotions confused her. She
had a strange sense of this stalking giant beside her, silent
except for his jangling spurs. She had a strange feeling of the