Brick reached over and lifted the bar off the slots, letting the door swing open. For a moment there was silence, then the half-breed woman poked her head inside. Her eyes bored into Brick’s face, but his grin reassured her and she stepped inside. “Put that bar across the door,” ordered Brick. She turned and barred the door. The two men relaxed and watched her hurry across to the bunk, where she picked up the crying baby. “Goin’ to take him with yuh?” queried Brick. The woman shook her head, as she wrapped the baby in a piece of bright-colored blanket. Brick grinned and stepped back to the connecting door. For some reason he was suspicious of this woman. Still he could not see where she could do them any harm. She was crooning an Indian song to the youngster, as she bundled him up well and placed him on the bunk. Harp was still standing near the front door, listening intently for any noise outside. The Indian woman flung another blanket across half of the child. Then she took hold of the bunk with both hands, drew it away from the wall and swung it completely around. Brick squinted at her and wondered why she should change the position of the bunk. Then he knew. In the half-light from the candle he saw the floor lift up where the bunk had been. In a flash he realized that the bunk had stood over a trap-door and that the woman had used the baby as an excuse to uncover that entrance. Harp had seen it, too. He darted toward Brick, shouting a warning. But Brick had already swung up his gun and fired one shot at the black mass under the trap-door. “The back door!” snapped Brick, as Harp darted past him. Then he swung his gun around and his next shot smashed into the bottle under the guttering candle and the room went dark. Brick whirled and ran to Harp, who had managed to claw the bar away from the door, and without a thought of what might be waiting outside for them, they darted out into the night. But no one tried to block them now, as they pounded heavily away from the house, circling toward the bluff trail. After about two hundred yards at top speed, Brick stopped and looked back. Not a light was showing in the old ranch-house. They listened, but there was not a sound. “By ——, that ’breed female came darned near to bein’ the death of us,” panted Harp. “Didja see anybody, Brick?” “No. I shot once at the trap-door and once at the candle, but I didn’t see nobody. Pretty foxy, eh? Their foolish move was in openin’ that trap so soon. If they’d ’a’ waited a little while, we’d ’a’ been easy pickin’, I reckon.” “By golly, there was more than one person in that deal, Brick.” “Oh, yeah. Well——” Brick drew a deep breath and hitched up his belt. “I reckon we’ve got to walk to Marlin City, cowboy.” It was at least fifteen miles; and fifteen miles is a long ways, walking on high-heeled boots. “Let’s go over to the Red Hill mine and borrow a couple of broncs from Barney Devine,” suggested Harp.