“Very well. We’ll say I lied, though it’s not a nice word in so pretty a mouth, as yours, Miss Messiter. Y’u ought to read up again the fable about the toads dropping from the beautiful lady’s lips.” “What’s your object? What do you expect to gain by it?” “Up to date I’ve gained a right interesting guest. Y’u will be diverting enough. With so charming a lady visiting me I’m not worrying about getting bored.” “So you war on women, you coward.” The change in him was instantaneous. It was as if a thousand years of civilization had been sponged out in an eyebeat. He stood before her a savage primeval, his tight-lipped smile cruel in its triumph. “Did I begin this fight? Didn’t y’u and your punchers try to balk me by taking that sheep-herder from me after I had bagged him? That was your hour. By God, this is mine! I’ll teach y’u it isn’t safe to interfere with me. What I want I get one way or another, and don’t y’u forget it, my girl.” She was afraid to the very marrow of her. But she would not show her fear, nor could he read it in the slim superb erectness with which she gave him defiance. “You coward!” “That’s twice you’ve called me that,” he cried, his face flushing darkly and his eyes glittering. “You’ll crawl on your knees to me and beg pardon before I’m through with y’u, my beauty. Y’u’ll learn to lick the hand that strikes y’u. You’re mine—mine to do with as I please. Don’t forget that for a moment. I’ll break your spirit or I’ll break your heart.” His ferocity appalled her, but her brave eyes held their own. With an oath he turned on his heel and struck the palms of his hands together. An Indian squaw came running from one of the cabins. He flung at her a sentence or two in the native tongue and pointed at his captive. She asked a question impassively and he jabbed out a threat. The squaw nodded her head, and motioned to the girl to follow her. When Helen Messiter was alone in the room that was to serve as her prison she sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands in a despair that was for the moment utter. CHAPTER XI. A RESCUE Helen Messiter was left alone until darkness fell, when the Cheyenne squaw brought in a kerosene lamp and shortly afterward her supper. The woman either could not or would not speak English, and her only answer to her captive’s advances was by sullen grunts. At the expiration of half an hour she returned for the dishes, locking the door after her when she left.