Inez looked about her feverishly. Should she ask O'Farrell to accompany her? He was dancing with one of the Mormon women. Brannan and Spear were not to be seen. Leidesdorff was impossible in such an emergency. Besides, she could not take him from his guests. She would go alone, decided Inez. Quietly she made her way to the cloak-room, in charge of an Indian servant, caught up her mantilla and riding crop and fled. On the square her horse whinnied at her approach as if eager to be gone. Swiftly she climbed into the saddle and spurred forward. Far ahead gleamed the lights of the Mission. They were making merry there with the games and dance of old Spain. And to the south Benito, Adrian, her father, rode toward a battle with treacherous men. Breathlessly she spurred her horse to greater effort. Trees flashed by like witches in the dark. Presently she heard the music of the fandango. Another picture framed itself before her vision. Excited faces round her. A sudden stoppage of the music, a frocked priest making anxious inquiries. Her own wild words; a jingle of spurs. Then many hoofs pounding on the road beside her. She never knew just what had happened, what she had said. But now she felt the sting of the bay breeze in her face and Antonio's steady hand upon her saddle pommel. "Caramba!" he was muttering. "The pig of a gringo once more. And your father; the little Benito. Hurry, comrades, faster! faster! To the rescue!" Came a third picture, finally more clear, more disconcerting. The entrance to her father's ranch barred by armed riders. McTurpin smiling insolent in the moonlight, bowing to her while Antonio muttered in suppressed wrath. "We have three hostages here, senorita ... relatives of yours and ah--a friend." His voice, cold, threatening, spoke on. "They are unharmed--as yet." "I don't believe you," Inez stormed at him. "Tell them, Senor Windham," said McTurpin, "that I speak the truth." "Inez, it is true," her father spoke out of some shadowed darkness. "We were ambushed. Taken by surprise." "What do you propose?" asked Antonio, unable longer to restrain himself. "To turn them loose ... upon their word not to trouble us further," said McTurpin. "I have merely assumed control of my property. I hold the conveyance of Benito Windham. It is all quite regular," he laughed shortly. Antonio moved uneasily. His hand upon the lariat itched for a cast. McTurpin saw it. "You'll do well to sit still in the saddle," he reminded, "all of you. We have you covered." "What are your orders, master?" said the chief vaquero tensely. "Say the word and we will--" "No," commanded Windham. "There shall be no fighting now. We will go. Tomorrow we shall visit the Alcalde. I can promise no more than this." "It's enough," McTurpin answered. "I've possession. I've a deed with your son's signature. And a dozen good friends to uphold me." He turned. "Take their pistols, friends, and let them go." * * * * *