“The rustlers have notified us to leave the building, but have not said that they have a preference of one door over the other.  If she finds herself confronted by strangers, she can easily explain who she is and say that her mother will soon join her.  Can there be any objection to such a course, or is she likely to suffer on that account?”

Who could reply unfavourably to this question?  The rustlers would simply conduct her to a place of safety, there to await the coming of her parent.  Failure could bring no embarrassment to Jennie Whitney.

“The great difficulty, after all,” remarked Capt.  Asbury, “as it occurs to me, is that if your estimable daughter presents herself before Mr. Duke Vesey, he will refuse his help.  What reason can she give that will induce him to aid her to pass beyond the camp?”

“I can think of none, but Jennie is hopeful that if she can see him alone he will permit her to do as she wishes.”

“Does she contemplate walking the half-dozen miles or so to the camp of the cattlemen?” asked Sterry, in dismay.

“O, no; she expects to ride Mr. Sterry’s mare.”

“But—­but—­” stammered Monteith.

“She thought of all that,” smiled the mother; “she took her saddle with her.”

“Well, I’ll be hanged if this isn’t a little ahead of anything of which I ever heard or read!” was the only comment Monteith Sterry could make, as the full scheme unrolled before him.

“Jennie may fail,” continued the proud parent, “but if she does, her situation and that of all of us will be no worse than before.  If she fails, then you, too, Mr. Sterry, would have failed and lost your life without helping us.”

“I am not prepared to admit that, but my part in the business seems to have passed beyond discussion.”

Mrs. Whitney was about to continue her words when she ceased and faintly asked for a glass of water.  Fred set down the candle and sprang to her help ahead of anyone, holding the glass, which was instantly brought, to her lips.

The poor woman had undergone great trials, as will be admitted, during the past few days.  The excitement had sustained her until now something in the nature of a reaction came.  Helping her to a chair, Fred affectionately fanned her, and did what he could to make her rally.

He was thus engaged when a second knock startled all.  Capt.  Asbury wheeled and demanded: 

“Who’s there?”

“Duke Vesey, under a flag of truce.”

No name could have astonished the cattlemen more.  This was the man whom Sterry had expected to meet, and in whose care it was supposed Jennie Whitney had placed herself.

Instead of that, he was asking admittance.

“Your flag will be respected,” said Capt.  Asbury, drawing back the bolts of the door, which was next swung inward a few inches.

The rustler stepped within, saying: 

“I have been sent by Capt.  Inman to inquire the meaning of the absence of Fred Whitney, who was sent here a considerable time ago.”