"So you have turned highwayman, have you?" said Frank, without moving. "Do you find it a more pleasant and profitable business than herding cattle?" "Are you going to get off that horse?" asked the robber, impatiently. "What's the use? You will not find a red cent in my pockets." "I suppose not; but if I take you with me, I'll soon find out how many yellow boys your uncle carries in his pockets." "If you take me with you!" repeated Frank. "What do you mean?" "I mean just this: I shall find it exceedingly lonesome living here in the mountains by myself, and I don't know of any one in the world I had rather have for a companion than yourself." "Humph!" exclaimed Frank; "that's a nice idea. I won't go." "Of course," continued the Ranchero, not heeding the interruption, "when you fail to make your appearance at home for three or four days, your uncle will think he has seen the last of you. He will believe that you have been clawed up by grizzlies, or that you have tumbled into some of these gullies. He will raise a hue and cry, search high and low for you, offer rewards, and all that; and, while the fuss is going on, and people are wondering what in the world could have become of you, you will be safe and sound, and living like a gentleman, with me, on the fat of the land." "But, Pierre," said Frank, now beginning to be really frightened, "I don't want to live with you on the fat of the land, and I won't do it. Let go that bridle." The Ranchero, as before, paid no attention to the interruption. He seemed to delight in tormenting his prisoner. "After you have been with me about six months," he went on, "and your friends have given up all hope of ever seeing you again, I'll send a note to Mr. Winters, stating that you are alive and well, and that, if he will give me twenty thousand dollars in gold, I will return you to him in good order, right side up with care. If I find that we can get along pretty well together, I may conclude to keep you a year; for the longer you remain away from your uncle, the more he will want to see you, and the bigger will be the pile he will give to have you brought back. What is your opinion of that plan? Don't you think it a capital way to raise the wind?" Frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. Cruel and reckless as he knew Pierre to be, he had never for a moment imagined that he could be guilty of such an enormous crime as this. He did not know what reply to make--there was nothing he could say or do. Entreaties and resistance were alike useless. "Well, what are you thinking about?" inquired the Ranchero. "I was wondering if a greater villain than yourself ever lived," replied Frank. "We will talk about that as we go along," said Pierre. "Get off that horse, now; I am going to send him home."