But though he chatted with them gayly, the ranchman’s mind was subconsciously busy with the new factor that had entered into the problem of his captivity.  Why had Rutherford allowed her to come?  He could not understand that.  Every added one who knew that he was here increased the danger to his abductors.  He knew how fond the owner of the horse ranch was of this girl.  It was odd that he had let her become incriminated in his lawless plans.  Somehow that did not seem like Hal Rutherford.  One point that stood out like the Map of Texas brand was the effect of her coming upon his chances.  To secure their safety neither Tighe nor Meldrum would stick at murder.  Ten minutes ago the prudent way out of the difficulty would have been for them to arrange his death by accident.  Now this was no longer feasible.  When the Rutherford girl had stepped into the conspiracy, it became one of finesse and not bloodshed.  Was this the reason that her father had sent her—­to stay the hands of his associates already reaching toward the prisoner?  There was no question that Meldrum’s finger had been itching on the trigger of his revolver for a week.  One of the young Rutherfords had been beside him day and night to restrain the man.

Dave was due for another surprise when Ned presently departed after a whispered conference with Meldrum and left his sister in the hut.  Evidently something important was taking place in another part of the park.  Had it to do with young Beaudry?

From his reflections the cattleman came to an alert attention.  Miss Rutherford was giving Meldrum instructions to arrange her bed in the back room.

The convict hesitated.  “I can’t leave him here alone with you,” he remonstrated surlily.

“Why can’t you?” demanded Beulah incisively.  “He’s tied to the bedpost and I have my gun.  I can shoot as straight as you can.  What harm can he do me in five minutes?  Don’t be an idiot, Dan.”

Meldrum, grumbling, passed into the back room.

In an instant Beulah was at the table, had drawn out a drawer, and had seized a carving knife.  She turned on Dingwell, eyes flashing.

“If I help you to escape, will you swear to say nothing that will hurt my father or anybody else in the park?” she demanded in a low voice.

“Yes—­if young Beaudry has not been hurt.”

“You swear it.”

“Yes.”

She tossed him the knife, and moved swiftly back to the place where she had been standing.  “Whatever my father wants you to do you’d better do,” she said out loud for the benefit of Meldrum.

Dingwell cut the ropes that bound his leg.  “I’m liable to be Dan’s guest quite awhile yet.  Rutherford and I don’t quite agree on the terms,” he drawled aloud.

Beulah tossed him her revolver.  “I’ll call Dan, but you’re not to hurt him,” she whispered.

When Meldrum came in answer to her summons, he met the shock of his life.  In Dingwell’s competent hand was a revolver aimed at his heart.