Grant’s mind leaped to grapple with the flash of an idea--the one that had come to him when he and the girl breasted the sandstorm. Resolution crystallized on the instant. He silently quizzed his friend with an appraising eye. “And if I can’t persuade her?” he queried softly. “Then you simply trundle yourself away from here and up across the Line, knowing that, sure as shootin’, this wolf Urgo’ll be down on her just as soon as he makes up his mind to move.” The big fellow in the firelight stressed inevitability in his dictum. Grant gave him a cryptic smile. “Suppose I take her anyway if she will not be persuaded?” Bim jerked back his head and surveyed his friend with startlement which speedily softened to a wide grin. Out went his hand to clap Grant’s knee. “Now you’re tootin’!” Once he had put his resolution into words, the idea back-fired to scorch Grant with sudden comprehension of what would be involved in such a cavalierly course of action. Actually to steal Benicia O’Donoju! Take her by force from the home which now was hers to rule. Play the very part which he feared Colonel Urgo would pursue if left alone. He scarcely heard Bim rumbling his enthusiasms. “That’s the pure quill!” the desert man was saying. “That’s the Grant Hickman who brought me in on his back from a section of Heinie’s first line trench with H.E.’s droppin’ round like gumdrops from a baby’s torn candy bag.” He checked himself to launch the question, “Have you got a line on the girl yet? I mean, do you think she fancies you enough to be glad--after you’ve run away with her?” “I think so,” was Grant’s simple answer. “Fine business! The sooner the quicker, young fellah. You an’ her an’ me in the li’l old desert skimmer. ’Cause I gotta get back to Arizora. The old Doc’ll think I’ve thrown him down an’, besides, my own business--” “You mean you’ll go ahead with Stooder on his scheme for finding the Lost Mission?” Grant cut in impetuously. The big love he bore Bagley jealously demanded an answer. The other reached over to lay a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “No. That’s all off, old son. I couldn’t go prying around after lost treasure that belongs to the girl’s family--more particular not after what you’ve told me I couldn’t. I promise you I’ll head off the Doc if I have to get him thrown in the _carcel_ for boot-legging.” The storm wore itself to a final sibilant whisper among the tortured palms and the two continued to sit in the room of shadows with the complexities of the daring plan of kidnapping still bulking large. ’Cepcion tip-toed in to announce to Bim in an awed whisper, “El Doctor Coyote Belly from Babinioqui has come through the storm. Shall I disturb the mistress?” Bim translated to Grant with a questioning tilt of the eyebrows. Grant started at the name of the medicine man who had been his rescuer and to whom he owed his life. What could have brought this old Indian away across the expanse of Altar to drop out of the storm upon the house of mourning?