"Come, dear lady, this will never do," the outlaw chief uttered in a soft, musical tone, as he sunk upon the little pallet beside which Lottie sat. "You are fading your beauty and dimming your eyes by this unceasing grief. The past is past--let it sink into oblivion. Live for the present, for the future--life can be gay and pleasant, if you only will it should. All around will be your servants--and I, the chief of this band of brave men--will be the humblest one of all at your command. You make no answer," he added, his keen eyes seeking to read the inner thoughts of the maiden. "You are not offended at my plain words?" "No--not offended," hesitated Lottie, at a warning glance from the seeming idiot. "Thanks. Now I will give you a few words to think over for a time. And think over them carefully you must, for a great deal depends upon your answer. You, among others, are deeply concerned. In fact, upon your decision rests the whole of your future. Thus much, by way of introduction. "You may not know that by the rules of the band, Charley Guilford really became your master, by his capturing you himself. Well--though he was a good enough man, in the way of duty, he was a devil at heart. He would have killed you with his cruelty in a month. For that reason I took you from him; for that reason, and because your face awoke a memory in my heart that I thought forever dead. Your face then, pale and care-worn, reminded me of my mother, as I last saw her, just before she died. I know now that she killed herself, because--but never mind. I did not come here to speak of the past. "Well, Guilford objected to my course, and--I shot him to-day. He would have served me so to-morrow, but I was ahead of him. "Now what I mean is this. You cannot lead this life always. You would die, shut up so close. And were you to walk about the village, you would always be in danger, from what, you can guess. For this reason, more than any thing else, I am here now, to tell you that you must choose between me and one of the men. In other words, you must become my wife." "You--but Mabel is your wife!" "Well--she passes for such, and so did the one before her. Never trouble about that--you must decide upon what I have told you. I must go now. You can give your answer to-morrow." Yellow Jack left the room, and, after a warning glance and whisper, the spy did the same. That night Crazy Joe disappeared. As he had predicted, this caused little or no comment. It was only an idiot gone. On the morrow Yellow Jack again visited Lottie. It is useless to repeat his arguments. They were the same in substance as those just recorded, save that they were more vehement and full of passion. Lottie, frightened and heart-sick, still did not forget the warning of Crazy Joe--or Joe Burleson, as he had told her his real name was--and begged for time. This he granted, though with evident reluctance.