The desperado was roughly turned over on his face, and while two stalwart savages sat on him to hold him down, his arms were brought down to their normal position, then securely tied behind his back. It was not much to be thankful for, but the change brought to Jesse the most heavenly sensation he ever had known. His inclination was to draw a deep, long breath, but he resisted and shut his lips tight. He would not give them that satisfaction. The thongs that held his feet were now made doubly secure, so that in reality he was more helpless than before. But he was not inclined to complain, though the desperado never had been in such sore straits before. His tormentors left him. Jesse had been left lying on his face, the Indians not taking the trouble to turn him over. But after satisfying himself that he was alone, the outlaw cautiously rolled over on his back and rested for a few minutes. But his new position enabled him to see out through the opening, only the upper part of the flap having been put back in place by the savages when they left him. He discovered that two stolid Indians had been left on guard. They were squatting on the ground in front of the wigwam. And now the desperado's mind began to work like a piece of well-oiled machinery, planning an escape. But just how he expected to accomplish this, was not clear to himself. Yet to his resourceful mind, no situation was impossible. Therefore the outlaw took cheer and set about the task in hand, regardless of the stinging pain from his burns, that he was now beginning to sense more keenly. The desperado pricked up his ears at the sound of voices outside. He recognized the tones of Dew Drop, the Indian maiden. She was speaking loudly in her broken English, and Jesse understood instantly that she intended he should hear what she was saying. Somewhere within her words there lay a message for him. Dew Drop had launched into a perfect tirade of invective against the helpless desperado there in the wigwam, and with straining ears he listened for the words that would give him a clue to her motives. He observed too, that the shadows of night were falling. Between these two incidents the desperado believed there was a connection that augured well for his plans. Once during her conversation with the Indians, he caught the words, "fire-water." Then Dew Drop's voice was heard no more, and he understood that she had gone away. His heart sank. Perhaps he was wrong in his surmise, after all. But Jesse's spirits revived a moment later when he heard her returning. He was at a loss at first to account for her movements. That something of interest to himself was occurring, Jesse was firmly convinced. But wriggle about as he would, he could not get a glimpse of the group outside. However, the desperado's curiosity was soon rewarded.