“No, we didn’t find no coat,” replied the man, slowly. He straightened up, with his hand dropping to his side. The other fellow was on his knees mixing dough in a pan. Adam advanced with natural manner, but his eyes, hidden under the shadow of his wide hat brim, took swift stock of that camp. “Pshaw! I was sure hoping you’d found it,” he said, as he reached the fire. “I had a time locating your camp. Funny you’d come way off the trail, down in here.” “Funny or not, stranger, it’s our bizness,” gruffly replied the man standing. He peered keenly at Adam. “Sure,” replied Adam, with slow and apparent good nature. He was close to the man now, as close as he ever needed to get to any man who might make a threatening move. And he looked past him at the girl. She had a pale little face, too small for a pair of wonderful dark eyes that seemed full of woe and terror. She held out thin brown hands to Adam. “Reckon you’d better go an’ hunt fer yer coat,” returned the man, significantly. In one stride Adam loomed over him, his leisurely, casual manner suddenly transformed to an attitude of menace. He stood fully a foot and a half over this stockily built man, who also suddenly underwent a change. He stiffened. Warily he peered up, just a second behind Adam in decision. His mind worked too slowly to get the advantage in this situation. “Say, I’m curious about this girl you’ve got with you,” said Adam, deliberately. The man gave a start. “Aw, you are, hey?” he rasped out. “Wal, see hyar, stranger, curious fellars sometimes die sudden, with their boots on.” Adam’s force gathered for swift action. Keeping a sharp gaze riveted on this man, he addressed the girl: “Little girl, what’s wrong? Are you----” “Shet up! If you blab out I’ll slit your tongue,” yelled the fellow, whirling fiercely. No father ever spoke that way to his child. And no child ever showed such terror of her father. “Girl, don’t be afraid. Speak!” called Adam, in a voice that rang. “Oh, save me--save me!” she cried, wildly. Then the man, hissing like a snake, was reaching for his gun when Adam struck him. He fell clear across the fire and, rolling over some packs, lay still. The other one, cursing, started to crawl, to reach with flour-whitened hand for a gun lying in a belt upon the sand. Adam kicked the gun away and pounced upon the man. Fiercely he yelled and struggled. Adam bore him down, burrowing his face in the sand. Then placing a ponderous knee on the back of the man’s neck, he knelt there, holding him down. “Girl, throw me that piece of rope,” said Adam, pointing. She shakily got up, her bare feet sinking in the sand, and, picking up the rope, she threw it to Adam. In short order he bound the man’s arms behind his back. “Now, little girl, you can tell me what’s wrong,” said Adam, rising. “Oh, they took me away--from mother!” she whispered. “Your mother? Where?” “She’s at the cottonwoods. We live there.”