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At the summons the driver swung his head sharply to a picture he

will never forget. A young woman was standing on the bank at the

edge of the road covering him with a revolver, having apparently

just stepped from behind the trunk of the cottonwood beside her.

The color had fled her cheeks even to the edge of the dull

red-copper waves of hair, but he could detect in her slim young

suppleness no doubt or uncertainty. On the contrary, despite her

girlish freshness, she looked very much like business. She was

like some young wild creature of the forest cornered and brought

to bay, but the very terror in her soul rendered her more

dangerous. Of the heart beating like a trip-hammer the gray

unwinking eyes that looked into hers read nothing. She had

schooled her taut nerves to obedience, and they answered her

resolute will steadily despite fluttering pulses.

"Don't move!" she said again.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"I want your team," she panted.

"What for?"

"Never mind. I want it."