The young man was looking for an opening by which he could make his way beyond the lines without attracting attention.  The best prospect seemed to be the stretch of prairie extending from the front of the house toward the Big Horn Mountains.

“No one appears to be on the lookout there—­”

At that instant each arm was tightly gripped, and the man with whom he had exchanged words but a few minutes before said: 

“Mr. Smith, please go with us to the fire; my friend here is Smith, and he is the only one in our party with that name; maybe you are his double.”

It was useless to resist, and Sterry replied: 

“You know there are several Smiths in this country, and I ought to have the privilege of wearing the name without objection.”

“We’ll soon see,” replied the first captor.

Within the next minute Sterry was marched in front of the camp-fire, where the full glare fell upon his countenance.

Then a howl of exultation went up, for more than half of the rustlers in the group recognized him.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

OUT IN THE NIGHT.

Enough has been already told for the reader to understand the scheme which Jennie Whitney, with the help of her mother, attempted to carry out for the benefit of the besieged cattlemen.

With her cloak around her shoulders and her saddle supported on one arm, she passed quickly from the rear of her home to the stables, only a short distance away.  She had been on the alert for the signal of Duke Vesey, and, seeing it not, was prepared to encounter some one else.

In this she was not disappointed, for at the moment of catching sight of the dark mass where the horses were sheltered the figure of a man loomed into view as though he had risen from the ground.  She stopped short, and observed, dimly, the forms of two others just behind him.

“Halloo!” exclaimed the nearest, “how is this?”

With peculiar emotions the young lady recognized the voice of Larch Cadmus.  She hoped this was a favourable omen, and was quick to turn it to account.

“Larch, is that you?” she asked, peering forward as if uncertain of his identity.

“I declare, it is Miss Jennie!” he exclaimed, coming forward; “how is it you are alone?”

“Mother did not wish to come with me,” replied the daughter, trying to avoid the necessity of direct deceit.  “She will probably leave the house pretty soon.”

The fellow was plainly embarrassed, despite the protecting gloom which concealed his features.  Jennie knew him to be one of her most ardent admirers, though she had never liked him.  Her hopes were now based upon making use of his regard for her.

“You have come out, Jennie, I suppose,” said he, offering his hand, which she accepted, “so as not to be in the house when the—­ah, trouble begins.”

“O, I know it will be dreadful; I want to go as far away as I can—­do you blame me, Larch?”