Sidewinder dismounted, and with the dapper Cholo Bill swinging along beside him, ascended the rocky floor of the cañon on foot. A faint thread of smoke began climbing into the sky from somewhere around the bend; sunrise in all its glory was spreading a riot of color across the heavens. Some distance above them was a great boulder, huge as a house, in the center of the rapidly narrowing cañon. It was a rich and ruddy rose-pink in the first sunlight, and was split squarely in two, with a number of small piñon trees growing from the split. Water came from it, came from the cañon above it also, and ran down into several pools and short falls; it was the evanescent water of the desert springtime, giving a short-lived existence to lilies and masses of flowers on either hand. Above this boulder, and to its left, could be seen the brown outline of a small tent, with the figure of Ethel Gilman tending a fire close by. Sidewinder raised his voice in a hail, and waved his hand. “Leave the talk to me, now,” he growled. “It’s all right—she’s alone here. Don’t want to frighten her. Scare a fool woman, and she’s like a locoed horse.” “_Seguro, señor_,” assented the halfbreed with a flash of his white teeth. Sidewinder, now that the girl had seen them, turned and sent a stentorian hail down the cañon, bidding Emery come along up. Then he started climbing again to where the girl stood beside her little fire, staring at the arrivals in alarm and fear that could not be wholly veiled. “Morning, miss,” called Sidewinder as they approached her camp. “How’s everything?” “All right, thanks,” she returned, low-voiced, obviously startled. “I was goin’ by with some friends o’ mine,” said Sidewinder, puffing with the climb, “and thought we’d stop in and see if you were all right. —Bill, rustle up some firewood for the lady!” Cholo Bill smiled and went about his task. Sidewinder approached the girl. “We’re going to leave Ramsay with you a spell,” he said. “He’s a mite scratched up, but aint hurt to speak of. Fell off a hoss, I reckon. Miss, where’s that pistol of yours? Let’s have a look at it.” He did not miss her start at Ramsay’s name. His gray eyes glittered on her, bored into her, and as she met that deadly gaze, there was a struggle in her face. “You want—my pistol?” she faltered. “If you please, ma’am.” Her hand went to her bosom and produced a small, flat automatic. Still she hesitated, a surge of anger coming into her eyes—then as she looked past Sidewinder, she saw the other three figures turning the bend. At once she held out the weapon. “There. Now what? You need not pretend that you want to help me.” Sidewinder took the weapon and thrust it out of sight.