Ramsay, despite his protestations, was seized and lashed firmly to a tree, after which he was ignored for the remainder of the morning. He was somewhat relieved by the exposition of Sidewinder’s plans, since these did not at least include murder; this relief was more than balanced, however, by the menace directed toward Ethel Gilman. The hours dragged past, while Sidewinder and his three companions worked like slaves. The entire band of horses, numbering nearly forty, had to be gone over. Each animal had to be examined carefully, and his brand worked upon with running irons to make it accord with the brands used by Sidewinder, while the other marks also had to be altered to suit. There was an hour’s lay-off at noon, when Ramsay was given temporary liberty. Then he was closely confined again, and the work went on. Five of the unavailable horses were turned into a small corral behind the shacks, and one of the women was sent to the outer cañon to bring in the horse which Sidewinder had left there. She returned later with word that the animal had wandered off out of sight. It was nearly sunset when the work was concluded, and the four men, weary to the point of exhaustion, came in and flung themselves down. The two women had prepared a meal which was eaten hurriedly; then Ramsay, who had been released temporarily, was again bound and relegated to his post against the tree. Ordering the women to wake them at midnight, Sidewinder and the others rolled up and were asleep at once. Benumbed by his many and tight lashings, stiff and sore with his hurts and bruises, Ramsay resigned himself to the inevitable, and after a little dropped off into a doze. From this he was wakened to find Ximines cutting him free and playfully jabbing him with the point of a knife as he cut. “So, leetle señor, you come weeth me, eh?” In the starry darkness the white teeth of the swarthy Mexican outlaw flashed faintly. “You ride with Manuel,” continued the man in Spanish, which Ramsay comprehended perfectly. “And while you ride _conmigo_, we shall talk, eh?” Ramsay, rubbing his stiffened limbs, glanced around and saw that they were alone. He gathered his muscles— “Careful, señor!” The muzzle of a pistol touched him. “Turn and walk to the horses.” “Five hundred dollars and a get-away, Ximines,” he said softly, “if you turn me free.” The other growled. “Bah! If you have that much money, I shall take it anyway, and take the pretty señorita too! When we get to that cañon of _pinecates_ eh? Then this Sidewinder will go away, and maybe Manuel will come back, eh? And you will not be able to object, my little señor. _Vamanos!_ To the horses!” Sidewinder called. Ramsay, hopeless, turned and went to the horses, saddled by the other men. He was put into a saddle, his feet roped to the stirrups, and his arms bound. Then Ximines, without orders but for reasons of his own, improvised a dirty bandana into a gag, which he lashed about the jaw of Ramsay.