"We came out to the ranch, and talked matters over quite normally; but
when it came time for my departure, I was not permitted to leave. For
some unexplained reason I was a prisoner, confined absolutely to the
four walls of this enclosure. I was guarded night and day; and I soon
found I was to be permitted conversation with two men only, Mexicans
named Ramon and Andreas."

"They are his right and left hand," I commented.

"So I found. You may imagine I did not submit to this until I found I
had to. Then I made up my mind that the only possible thing to do was to
acquiesce, to observe, and to wait my chance."

"You were right enough there. Why do you figure he did this?"

"I don't know!" she cried with a flash of thwarted despair. "I have
racked my brains, but I can find no motive. He has not asked me for a
thing; he has not even asked me a question. Unless he's stark crazy, I
cannot make it out!"

"He may be that," I suggested.

"He may be; and yet I doubt it somehow. I don't know why; but I _feel_
that he is sane enough. He is inconceivably cruel and domineering. He
will not tolerate a living thing about the place that will not or cannot
take orders from him. He kills the flies, the bees, the birds, the
frogs, because they are not his. I believe he would kill a man as
quickly who stood out even for a second against him here. To that extent
I believe he is crazy: a sort of monomania. But not otherwise. That is