"If we only had that Gatlin' gun now we'd be all right," exclaimed the other twin enthusiastically, as his horse nosed its way in beside them. "But if we get behind the big rock we'll scare 'em to death, so's they won't have the nerve to do nothin'!" "But what are they going to do?" demanded Hope impatiently. "You seem to know nothing except that they're going to meet there for some devilishness." "Goin' to make a raid on the shed, I reckon," replied Dave. The soft-voiced twin was silent. "And you think we can stand off a dozen men?" she demanded. "They can't do a thing to us from the big rock, anyway, an' we can watch the fun an' pick off everyone that leaves the shed. We can do that much," said the soft-voiced twin eagerly. "How you thirst for blood! They deserve death, every one--_the dogs_! But I can't do it! There must be some other way! He must be warned, and his men too, and the thing averted. Before, it just happened so--this time we have a chance and warning." "It 'ud never do to tell him," exclaimed the soft-voiced twin nervously. "He'd put his own head right into the noose!" "Never!" she cried. "You don't know what courage he has!" The soft-voiced twin continued to demur. Suddenly she held up her hand to him commandingly. "Not another word! I'll manage this thing myself! It's for me to command, and you obey orders. Remember, you're my scouts--my _brave scouts_. Surely you want me to be proud of you!" "You bet!" exclaimed Dave. "Then do as I say," she commanded in a voice softly alluring, coaxing. "Go home, find out what you can, and bring me word here in an hour. If you are not back here then I will go down there and face them all, myself--_alone_." "You wouldn't," whispered the soft-voiced twin excitedly. "I _would_!" replied the girl. "Now go--and remember I'll expect you back in one hour. If you fail me, I'll go down there and face those devils single-handed! I could wipe the earth with forty such dogs!" The breed boys turned away in silent, stolid, Indian fashion, and the bare-headed girl stood in the still gloom of the willow-brush listening to the sound of their horses' quick hoof-beats until the last dull thud had died in the distance. "Chuck-away!" called a voice from the creek bank. "Coming!" answered the girl, turning about with a start and running back along the path. At the bank she stopped, unnerved with a rush of thoughts, overwhelming--terrifying. She knelt down in the long grass, clasped her hands over her heart as if to tear it from her, and raised for an instant a strained, white face to the starlit canopy of heaven. "The brave can die but once," her heart repeated wildly. "But I am a coward--I cannot bear it! Oh, God,--if you are the great, good God,--spare him from all harm, from suffering and death! Spare him now! See, I offer myself instead--freely, gladly! Take me, but spare him!" A dimly outlined face from the bank above looked down at her, followed by a soft, mellow laugh.