"Not a cent! You are a thief, a murderer, a liar--and you know it. Your word is not to be trusted. Take your choice. Kill me, or accept my pledge to pay you the money when you have brought me and the girls safe to the nearest town." The corner of Slade's coarse lip drew up in a wolfish snarl. "Kill you? Just wait and see. Killing's a heap too easy. Wait till Cochise has had a little fun with you. Mebbe you won't agree to be reasonable then, huh?" The pale eyes of the trader glittered with cold malevolence as he swung around to the window from which Pete was signalling. He boldly thrust his head out and shouted to the Apaches in their own tongue. From below came an answering shout. Slade called down to them for several moments in hissing thick-tongued gutturals. When at last he drew back and faced about, his mouth was twisted in a grin of evil satisfaction. He stared across the room, blinked, and stared again, with his grin distorted into an angry grimace. Carmena lay where he had last seen her. But Elsie was nowhere in sight. CHAPTER XXI TREACHERY The inaction of the trader was brief. At his harsh question the wounded Navaho thrust out a slim finger toward one of the rear exits from the living room. Slade spoke a fierce command to Pete in the Navaho tongue and rushed out through the opening to which the Indian had pointed. Carmena uttered a horrified cry and sought to struggle up on her bound feet. As she fell, Pete and the other Navaho caught hold of her. They carried her out into the anteroom, without paying the slightest heed to Lennon's threats and pleadings. He writhed and twisted himself toward the doorway. Before he had reached the opening, the wounded Navaho bounded back into the room. He seized Lennon and dragged him out. Pete had squatted down to fasten a loop of the hoist rope about Carmena, who lay behind the sacks of corn that barricaded the crane-hoist entrance. She was speaking rapidly to the young Navaho in mingled Spanish and English. At sight of the other Navaho and Lennon she paused. Pete took the opportunity to mutter a sullen reply: "_Basta._ Slade, him bad med'cine. Me no fight him. You go Cochise, _muy pronto_." "Wait!" urged the girl. "You want me to be your woman. Remember what I promised if you'd help Slade to get up the canon against Cochise. I'll promise more now. I'll give you all those horses and cattle--and I'll give you myself. Sabe? I'll be your woman." The Indian's eyes gleamed with avid desire. But he did not falter. "Woman no good, me dead." "Afraid--you girl!" taunted Carmena. "He's only a man. A single shot will kill him. You have only to----" "_Basta._ Him big devil. Me no shoot him. Him say you go Cochise, _muy pronto_." The stubborn coward turned away toward the windlass. Carmena glared after him in agonized desperation.