"_Si, Señor_, and we move immediate. We persuade you to visit us at our summer mountain home where we can talk at leisure. We suggest a compromise." Luck grinned. "Your notion of a compromise and mine don't tally, José. Your idea is for me to give you the apple and stand by while you eat it. Trouble is that both parties to this quarrel are grabbers." "True, but Señor Cullison must remember his hands are tied behind him. He will perhaps not find the grabbing good," his opponent suggested politely. "Come to that, your hands are tied too, my friend. You can't hold me here forever. Put me out of business and the kid will surely settle your hash by proving up on the claim. What are you going to do about it?" "Since you ask me, I can only say that it depends on you. Sign the relinquishment, give us your word not to prosecute, and you may leave in three hours." Cullison shook his head. "That's where you get in wrong. Buck up against the law and you are sure to lose." "If we lose you lose too," Dominguez answered significantly. The tinkle of hoofs from the river bed in the gulch below rose through the clear air. The Mexican moved swiftly to the door and presently waved a handkerchief. "What gent are you wig-wagging to now?" Luck asked from the bed. "Thought I knew all you bold bad bandits by this time. Or is it Cass back again?" "Yes, it's Cass. There's someone with him too. It is a woman," the Mexican discovered in apparent surprise. "A woman!" Luck took the cigar from his mouth in vague unease. "What is he doing here with a woman?" The Mexican smiled behind his open hand. "Your question anticipates mine, Señor. I too ask the same." The sight of his daughter in the doorway went through the cattleman with a chilling shock. She ran forward and with a pathetic cry of joy threw herself upon him where he stood. His hands were tied behind him. Only by the turn of his head and by brushing his unshaven face against hers could he answer her caresses. There was a look of ineffable tenderness on his face, for he loved her more than anything else on earth. "Mr. Fendrick brought me," she explained when articulate expression was possible. "He brought you, did he?" Luck looked across her shoulder at his enemy, and his eyes grew hard as jade. "Of my own free will," she added. "I promised you a better argument than those I'd given you. Miss Cullison is that argument," Fendrick said. The cattleman's set face had a look more deadly than words. It told Fendrick he would gladly have killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he was cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor Blackwell would consent to let her leave otherwise. "He brought me here to have a talk with you, Dad. You must sign any paper he wants you to sign." "And did he promise to take you back home after our talk?" "Miss Cullison would not want to leave as long as her father was here," Fendrick answered for her glibly with a smile that said more than the words.