“Hello!” he exclaimed, in surprise.  “Come to, have y’u?”

Stella made no reply.

“Thought fer a while that y’u’d slipped over the Great Divide,” the fellow continued.

“No fault of yours that I didn’t,” said Stella weakly, for the pain and nausea to which she was being subjected had taken all her strength.

“I ain’t had nothin’ to do with it, lady.  I’m just guidin’ the outfit.  I don’t know y’u, er how y’u got hurt.  Feelin’ better?”

“I would be much better if I could get out and walk.  The motion of this carriage makes me deathly sick.”

“Can’t let y’u do that, lady.  We’re in too much of a hurry to stop now.”

“But you might let me have a drink of water.  I am dying of thirst.”

“I reckon I can do that.”

The flap over the stage window dropped, and in a moment she heard hushed voices outside.  Then a canteen was thrust through the window.

“Take all y’u want, lady, an’ drink hearty,” said her guide.

Stella wet her handkerchief and bathed her throbbing forehead, then took a deep draft, and felt much refreshed.

“Here’s your canteen,” she said.

Again the flap was thrust aside, and the ugly face looked in upon her with a leer.

“Where are we, and where are we going?” asked Stella.

“We’re in the Wich—­”

“Hey, Jack, stow that,” cried the driver.

“But it won’t do no harm—­”

“You know what the orders is,” said the other significantly.

“Sorry I can’t tell y’u, lady.  Orders is orders.”

“Oh, well, I don’t suppose it would do me any good to know where I am, anyway, but you might as well tell me what you are going to do with me.  It would relieve my anxiety, and make me feel better.”

“There ain’t no harm comin’ to y’u, lady, while I am with y’u,” said the fellow, with a hateful leer that made Stella shudder.

“Thank you,” she said faintly, as with a sigh she laid her head back again with her wet handkerchief on her brow.

So the stage rumbled on for almost an hour, with Stella the prey of sickness and pain.  She doubted if she could have walked even if she had been permitted to leave the stage.

But as she lay there she thought, and from the scraps of conversation she had heard, and from what her guide was about to tell her when he was interrupted by the driver, she knew that she had been captured and abducted during the fight by Shan Rhue’s men, and that she was in the Wichita Mountains.

That much, at least, she knew, but what caused her much anxiety was that she did not know the result of the fight.

She came to the conclusion that the broncho boys and their friends must have lost in the encounter, else she would not be in her present predicament.

But what of poor old Norris, for in spite of his rascality she was sorry that he had fallen into the hands of the ruthless Shan Rhue.