"Miss Cavendish," he said as he started down the stairs, "I'm glad you're back. We've something to talk about." "You've nothing to talk about with me," the girl said to the descending man. "Any business you have for Uncle Bryant can wait until he gets back here." Sawtell smiled. "I guess you don't understand. He won't be back here until we take some documents to him with your name and the names of your cousins signed to them." He halted at the bottom of the flight, and took a folded paper, covered with close writing, from his pocket. "Shall we go into the other room?" he said. "You can do what you want, I'm going to bed," retorted the girl, starting once more. Sawtell gripped her arm. "Let go of me!" "I don't want to use any harsh methods, Miss Cavendish," Sawtell said with his smile gone, and an impatient edge to his voice. "But I promise you, you're going to sign the agreement so we can start for town as soon as possible." Penny jerked her arm free. She felt panicky, helpless, but dared not show it. Her gun was still on the belt about her waist, but the cartridges it had held were somewhere in the brush on Thunder Mountain. She was determined to get to her room, bar the door, and stay there until her uncle came home. No matter what Bryant did, she knew that he would let nothing serious happen to her. It was incredible that he'd left instructions, such as Vince had told her about, with men like Sawtell and Lombard. She wondered about Lombard and Lonergan. Gimlet had said they were here in the house. Upstairs? It was quite possible. The girl looked toward the front door, then at Sawtell. "There's no use putting us all to a lot of extra trouble," Sawtell told her. "You'll only make it harder for yourself." "He's right," put in Vince, in a resigned voice. "They ain't no use puttin' off the signin' o' that paper. Might as well do it an' git it done with." Penny's jaw was firm. "I won't do anything until I talk to Uncle Bryant." Sawtell nodded slowly. "All right then, we'll have to bring Jeb down here." He called curt orders up the stairs, and in a moment Jeb, struggling between Lonergan and Lombard, was practically carried down the stairs. His eyes were wide and staring, and his lean face white with terror. "Do what they want," he cried to the girl. "No matter what it is, you sign it like what I done. If yuh don't they'll brand me with a poker." "Take him to the fireplace," ordered Sawtell, "put some ropes around him, then come back for Vince. This girl will do what Bryant says, or she'll see slow murder, with a lot of pain." "No, no," cried Vince, "not me!" As if by magic a gun appeared in Sawtell's hand. "_You_," he said, "as well as Jeb."