plateau in the hard embrace of two fighting grizzlies.  There could be no doubt about the issue, for Sturges was young and wiry and muscular; but Dona Brigida had the strength of three women, and, moreover, was not above employing methods which he could not with dignity resort to and could with difficulty parry.  She bit at him.  She clawed at his back and shoulders.  She got hold of his hair.  And she was so nimble that he could not trip her.  She even roared in his ears, and once it seemed to him that her bony shoulder was cutting through his garments and skin.  But after a struggle of some twenty minutes, little by little her embrace relaxed; she ceased to roar, even to hiss, her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps.  Finally, her knees trembled violently, she gave a hard sob, and her arms fell to her sides.  Sturges dragged her promptly into the cave and laid her down.

“You are a plucky old lady, and I respect you,” he said.  “But here you must stay until your daughter is safely out of the country.  I shall take her far beyond your reach, and I shall marry her.  When we are well out at sea, Tomaso will come back and release you.  If he attempts to do so sooner, I shall blow his head off.  Meanwhile you can be as comfortable here as you made your daughter; and as you brought a week’s supply of bread, you will not starve.”

The old woman lay and glared at him, but she made no reply.  She might be violent and cruel, but she was indomitable of spirit, and she would sue to no man.

Sturges placed the bread and water beside her, then, aided by Tomaso, pushed the stone into place.  As he turned about and wiped his brow, he met the eyes of the vaquero.  They were averted hastily, but not before Sturges had surprised a twinkle of satisfaction in those usually impassive orbs.  He shouted for Benito, then took the pistol from Pilar, who suddenly looked tired and frightened.

“You are a wonderful woman,” he said; “and upon my word, I believe you get a good deal of it from your mother.”

Benito came running, leading the mustangs.  Sturges wrapped Pilar in the long cloak, lifted her upon one of the mustangs, and sprang to his own.  He ordered Tomaso and Benito to precede them by a few paces and to take the shortest cut for Monterey.  It was now close upon noon, and it was impossible to reach Monterey before dawn next day, for the mustangs were weary; but the Joven did not sail until ten o’clock.

“These are my plans,” said Sturges to Pilar, as they walked their mustangs for a few moments after a hard gallop.  “When we reach the foot of the mountain, Benito will leave us, go to your rancho, gather as much of your clothing as he can strap on a horse, and join us at the barque.  He will have a good hour to spare, and can get fresh horses at the ranch.  We will be married at Mazatlan.  Thence we will cross Mexico to the Gulf, and take passage for New Orleans.  When we are in the United States, your new life will have really begun.”