“I’m not worryin’ about yer dad, or anyone else,” Curly replied.  “He’ll have all he can attend to without botherin’ about me.  Most likely he’s in a hotter place now than ever he struck on earth.”

Into Glen’s eyes leaped an expression of wild fear, as the meaning of Curly’s words dawned upon her.

“Ye understand?” Curly sneered.  “Two can play at this game, remember, an’ mebbe more’n two.”

“Was that your partner who followed my father?”

“Sure.  It was Dan, an’ he means business.”

“What business?”

“Oh, Dan’ll tell ye when he comes back.”

“Do you mean that he intends to shoot my father and Mr. Reynolds?”

“Mr. Reynolds!” Curly mockingly repeated.  “Yes, Mr. Reynolds, too.”

Glen’s outstretched arm was tired, but these words renewed her strength, and her fingers clutched more firmly the butt of the revolver.  Curly was fully aware that the girl was becoming wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and he regretted that he had told her anything about Dan.  What might not this girl do? he asked himself.  In fact he was very near death just then, for Glen in her agitation was unconsciously pressing the trigger slightly with her forefinger.  But Curly knew, and his face blanched.

“Fer God’s sake, be careful what yer doin’!” he screamed.  “That gun’ll go off, if ye don’t look out!”

“Perhaps it might be well if it did,” was the reply.  “I am strongly tempted to shoot you where you stand.  But I guess I will wait until Sconda comes back.  And then, remember, if my father and Mr. Reynolds are dead, you die, and at my hands at that.  You can remain just where you are, and I shall guard you, even if I have to wait here all day.”

“But I can’t stand here,” Curly whined.  “Let me sit down.”

“No, you must stay just where you are, and keep your hands clasped.  I shall sit down, though,” and Glen seated herself upon the doorstep.

Curly started to remonstrate, but was sternly checked.

“I do not wish to hear anything more,” Glen emphatically told him.  “You can keep your thoughts and your words to yourself.  And do not annoy me, or I might lose control of myself and do something rash.”

Seeing that the girl was thoroughly in earnest, Curly said no more, but stood there with his eyes fixed straight forward.  The only time Glen spoke was whenever she detected his look wavering in the slightest degree.  Then she called him sharply to attention, and warned him to be mindful of what he was doing.

Thus slowly and wearily the morning wore away.  With nerves strung to the highest tension, Glen guarded her prisoner, at the same time listening anxiously for the sound of Sconda’s returning footsteps.

CHAPTER XXIV

WHEN THE RIFLES CRACKED