He turned about and walked to the door of the stable.

“Jack is in the second stall,” she said, pausing at the entrance, “and his bridle is on the hook near his head.”

The gloom was impenetrable, but a couple of matches gave Cadmus all the light needed, and a minute later he brought forth the fine animal, who whinnied with pleasure at recognizing his mistress, despite the gloom.

Jennie gave what help she could in saddling and bridling him, the other two men standing a little way off in silence.  She kept up an incessant chatter, repeating her thanks to Cadmus for his kindness, and binding him more completely captive every minute.

But the rustler was inclined to be thoughtful, for before the animal was ready he began to feel misgivings as to the prudence of what he was doing.  There was something odd, too, about the young lady mounting her pony, riding alone out on the plain, and leaving her mother behind.  Then, too, she had emerged from the rear instead of the front of the house, as he judged from her line of approach.

Could there be any ulterior purpose in all this?  If she would only cease her chatting for a minute or two he might figure out the problem, but the trouble was, nothing could stop her.  In fact he didn’t wish her to stop, for that voice was the most musical one to which he could listen, and he would have been glad had it sounded for hours in his ears.

He managed to drift dangerously near the truth.

“Can it be that she intends to ride away for help?” he reflected.  “It has that look; but no, it is hardly that, for there isn’t any help within reach that I know of.  She might find it in the course of a day or two, but this affair will be over before daylight—­I beg pardon, what was it you said, Jennie?”

“Why, Larch, I’m tempted to pull your ears; you are a fine gallant; here I have been standing full ten seconds, waiting for you to help me on the horse, and you have paid me no attention.”

“It was rude, my dear; I hope you will pardon me,” he replied, stepping quickly forward, “but I am very absent-minded to-night.”

“I will pardon you, of course, for you have been so good and nice that it would be ungrateful for me to be impatient.”

He took the Cinderella-like foot in his broad palm and cleverly assisted her in the saddle.  While he helped to adjust the reins, her tongue rattled on harder than ever.

“How far, Larch, will it be necessary for me to ride so as to be sure—­mind you, sure—­of being out of the way when this awful business opens?”

“Well, I should say a hundred yards or so will be enough—­”

“Mercy! do you think so?  I ought to go two or three times as far as that; you won’t object, will you? and when the shooting does begin, I can hurry Jack farther off.”

“Do as you think best; but it seems to me, Jennie, that you are forgetting your mother—­”