They could see plainly now. They saw two of the mounted men dash off and the other, reeling in his saddle, but holding gamely to his seat, dash after them. Then they saw two men from the automobile spring to support the third who had fallen. "Gosh, I hope that ain't Ed!" said Penhallow. "I don't like the guy much, but Mabel would have my blood if I let him get plugged and me on the spot doing nothing." "Not Merriam," said Mendoza, darkly. "Merriam and Senor Hard carry the man." "Hold on!" But Penhallow was too slow. The car was slowing down and Polly was out in the road. Penhallow followed her. "Is--is he killed?" Hard looked up from his task of reviving Scott, with the contents of his whiskey flask and saw to his amazement a white-faced Polly Street bending over him. "Polly!" he gasped. "Then they didn't get you, after all?" "Is he killed?" The girl's voice was sharp and hard. "No, he ain't," Penhallow's hearty voice broke in. "It takes more than one bullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty." Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before he had seen Polly's anxious face bending over him. "They--Pachuca didn't----" "Not a bit of it, old man," Hard broke in. Then to Polly: "We thought Pachuca had carried you off." Polly stared at him in horror. "Carried me off?" she gasped. "Were those men----" she paused, dazed. Hard explained. Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his prospective son-in-law. "Where'd they get him, Ed?" "Shoulder. Don't look to me like no vital spot." "Well, we ain't all got our vitals as protected as you have, Ed," replied the sheriff, scathingly. "What was you up here for, anyhow?" "Scott got it into his head that his girl had been kidnapped by Mexicans and he got us up here after three of 'em. Looks to me, Father-in-law, like he'd picked the wrong kidnapper." "That'll do, Ed; fat folks was made to look funny, not to talk smart. Here, let's get this boy bandaged up before he bleeds to death." Polly, white and frightened, looked on as Penhallow's experienced hands tore up a shirt and made it into a bandage. The wound looked very vital to her and she would have given up hope a dozen times if it hadn't been for Penhallow's cheerful monologue. "That's the idea! Say, you boys better guess what this girl and I got in that Ford. We've been after treasure. Oh, you're waking up, are you?" as Scott opened his eyes. "I thought you would. You won't josh your wife much about Gasca and his hidden gold, I'm thinkin'." "It's all my fault," wept the girl. "If I'd only told you where I was going this wouldn't have happened. Oh, Marc, I'm so sorry!" "Well, you ain't the only one that's sorry, I reckon," grinned Merriam. "That Mexican ain't going to do much ridin' for a while by the looks of him."