out into the hall. He heard the rustle of her skirts as she went up
the stairs. A moment later the door leading to the veranda on the
floor above opened with a creak, and she appeared over the heads of the
band.

"Toot! Toot Wambush!" she called out in a clear, steady voice. "I
want to speak to you!"

Wambush, in a spirit of bravado, had just ridden on to the veranda, and
could hear nothing above the thunderous clatter of his horse's hoofs on
the floor.

"Here, thar, you jail-bird, yore wanted!" cried out the leader. "Stop
that infernal racket!"

"What is it?" asked Wambush, riding back among his fellows.

"Toot Wambush!" Harriet repeated.

He looked up at her. "What do you want?" he asked, doggedly, after
gazing up at her steadily for a moment.

"Get away as fast as you can," she replied. "His wound has broke
again. He's bleeding to death!"

"Well, that's certainly good news!" Wambush did not move.

"You'd better go," she urged. "It will be wilful murder. You made the
attack. He was unarmed, and you used a pistol and a knife. Do you
want to be hung?"