clear of the floor. Pierre held him in this position for a few
seconds--it seemed an age to Frank, who retained his consciousness all
the while--and then gradually slackened up on the lasso, until his
prisoner's feet once more rested firmly on the floor. Frank reeled a
moment like a drunken man, gazed about him with a bewildered air, and
attempted to raise his hands to his throat, while the Ranchero stood
watching him with a smile of triumph.

"I have given you one more chance," said he. "Have you come to your
senses yet."

Frank tried in vain to reply. The choking he had endured had deprived
him of his power of utterance, but it had not affected his courage or
his determination. There was not the least sign of yielding about him.

Pierre had thus far conducted his operations with the most business-like
coolness, and in much the same spirit that he would have exhibited had
he been breaking one of Mr. Winters's wild horses to the saddle. He had
smiled at times, as he would have smiled at the efforts of the horse to
escape, and the thought that he should fail in his object had never
entered his head. He had been certain that he could frighten or torture
Frank into revealing the hiding-place of the office key; but now he
began to believe that he had reckoned without his host. He was
astonished and enraged at the wonderful firmness displayed by his
prisoner. He had never imagined that this sixteen-year-old boy would
prove an obstacle too great to be overcome.

"You are the most obstinate colt I ever tried to manage," said Pierre,
in a voice choked with passion; "but I'll break one of two things--your
spirit or your neck; it makes no difference to me which."