“Deland, did you hear what he says? That he will guide us to the lair of Panther Pete?” He pointed the pistol again at the head of the prisoner. “Another question,” he said: “Is there a young lady held prisoner there?” The spy again hesitated. “Out with it!” shouted Denton. “Well--yes, there is.” “It’s the young lady, is it, who was taken last night from Scarlet Gulch--Miss Ellen West?” “I don’t know her name,” said the spy, “but it’s her; for she was brought from that town.” “And she’s in that place now, held there by Panther Pete?” “You’re right. Anyway, she’s there, in one o’ the houses.” “So they’ve got houses there!” He turned to Deland again. “Get the horses ready, Deland, and this fellow is to be put on mine. I’ll sit behind him, and make him guide the horse and pilot us. And, if he tries any treachery, I’ll shoot a hole through him.” His voice quivered. He was in deadly earnest. “Correct ye aire,” said Deland, and he brought up the horses. “Now, I’m going to untie your feet, so that you can get into that saddle,” said Denton; “but, if you try to get away, I’ll pot you with this pistol. Understand?” He cast off the cords that held Hatfield’s feet, and the rascal mounted to the saddle agilely enough. “Now, Deland, give me a lift.” Deland gave him the “lift,” and Denton secured a seat behind the prisoner. “Now, Deland, tie his feet under the horse’s belly.” Hatfield did not like this, but he could not help it, for he had a healthy fear of that big revolver; and his own weapons had been taken away from him. Deland also mounted, and they were ready to start. The smoke from the rain bomb had dissipated, but there was a cloudy sky and a threat of rain. “I’d like to fire off some more of the bombs, and jest see what’d come of it,” said Deland wishfully. “I’ll bet we’d have a flood before night, if I did. But I ought to save ’em, I s’pose, to try fer rain down in the town. That’s why I came there in the first place. You can tell what an awfully dry country it is by seeing the people hurry to the Flash Light.” He laughed humorously, and studied the sky. “By Jove, I’d like to try some more of them bombs!” He had the “grip” at the saddle horn in front of him as he thus rode forth. Hatfield smiled to himself, with face turned away. He was not pleased to be tied up so tightly, but he was pleased by the fact that these men had commanded him to lead them to the lair of Panther Pete. He was leading them now toward the “trap” in the rock-girt hollow, where he knew Panther Pete would have sharpshooting riflemen lying in ambush. Those riflemen, he believed, would cut the riders down with bullets, and he would be free again, and in a very short time. CHAPTER XLI. A GIRL’S HEROISM. When the first shock of fright and terror had passed away, Ellen West began to consider her situation with more calmness.