"And you escaped. Praise the Lord, honey!" "No--he brought me back." "MacQueen did! Goddlemighty--he knows what's best for him!" "He brought me back to--to----" She broke down, and buried her head in his shoulder. Long, dry sobs racked her. The father divined with alarm that he did not know the worst. "Tell me--tell me, 'Lissie! Brought you back to do what, honey?" He held her back from him, his hands on her shoulders. "To marry me." "What!" "To marry me. And he did--fifteen minutes ago, I am Black MacQueen's wife." "Black MacQueen's wife! My God, girl!" Big Beauchamp Lee stared at her in a horror of incredulity. She told him the whole story, from beginning to end. CHAPTER XII THE TAKING OF THE CACHE It was understood that in the absence of the sheriff Richard Bellamy should have charge of the posse, and after the disappearance of Flatray he took command. With the passing years Bellamy had become a larger figure in the community. The Monte Cristo mine had made him independently wealthy, even though he had deeded one-third of it to Melissy Lee. Arizona had forgiven him his experiment at importing sheep and he was being spoken of as a territorial delegate to Congress, a place the mine owner by no means wanted. For his interests were now bound up in the Southwest. His home was there. Already a little toddler's soft fat fist was clinging to the skirt of Ferne. At first Bellamy, as well as Farnum, McKinstra, young Yarnell and the rest of the posse looked expectantly for the return of the sheriff. It was hard to believe that one so virile, so competent, so much a dominant factor of every situation he confronted, could have fallen a victim to the men he hunted. But as the days passed with no news of him the conviction grew that he had been waylaid and shot. The hunt went on, but the rule now was that no move should be made singly. Not even for an hour did the couples separate. One evening a woman drifted into camp just as they were getting ready to roll into their blankets. McKinstra was on sentry duty, but she got by him unobserved and startled Farnum into drawing his gun. Yet all she said was: "_Buenos tardes, senor_." The woman was a wrinkled Mexican with a close-shut, bitter mouth and bright, snappy eyes. Farnum stared at her in surprise. "Who in Arizona are you?" It was decidedly disturbing to think what might have happened if MacQueen's outfit had dropped in on them, instead of one lone old woman. "Rosario Chaves." "Glad to meet you, ma'am. Won't you sit down?" The others had by this time gathered around. Rosario spoke in Spanish, and Bob Farnum answered in the same language. "You want to find the way into Dead Man's Cache, senor?" "Do we? I reckon yes!" "Let me be your guide." "You know the way in?" "I live there." "Connected with MacQueen's outfit, maybe?" "I cook for him. My son was one of his men." "Was?"