Mrs. Thomas, who had been taken into the confidence of the group only so far as to have it impressed upon her that she uttered the word Jose at her peril, and that the bandit’s name was now Pedro, had not been quick enough to follow Pearl and Hugh in their flight through the door and now stood helplessly gazing about her, confused, almost dazed, by the whole situation.

The sheriff, whose attention had meanwhile been occupied by Mrs. Nitschkan, who was creating a lusty disturbance in the middle of the floor, ran forward, shouting orders.  “Let ’em go, I tell you!” to those who would have pursued the Pearl.  “Where’s your heads?  I told you that this hall had got to be cleared, and cleared quick, of the women.  As for you, Seagreave,” catching Harry by the arm, “don’t try to wriggle through that door.  You’re under arrest.”

“Look here, sheriff, it’s snowing heavily.  Hugh’s blind, as you know, and can’t possibly drive my horse up the hill.  I drove Miss Gallito down in my cart and was to drive her back.  You know there’s no earthly way for me to escape, so if you let me drive those two up the hill, I’ll either come back here or you can get me in my cabin.”

“So that’s your game, son!” the sheriff smiled cynically.  “To stir the boys up now.  It’s too late.  They’re all safe home, with their boots off, and their wives talkin’ to them.  Even the girl couldn’t make ’em forget the honor of capturing Crop-eared Jose here in Colina, so run along, run along.  The girl’s too pretty to be hurt with a frisky horse.  My Lord!” striding down the hall again, “you fools stop scrapping with that termagant and put her out, put her out, I say.”

“Try it yourself,” called Nitschkan tauntingly, enjoying to the full her “hour of glorious strife,” and resisting with perfect ease the vague and chivalrous efforts of half a dozen deputies to hustle her from the hall.  “Any more of you try to mix it up with me and I’ll put you all down for the count.”

“Oh, Sadie, Sadie,” cried Mrs. Thomas, running down the hall toward her friend, “it do beat the dogs how you act.  These gentlemen’ll think you’re no lady.  Do behave more refined.”

But Mrs. Nitschkan paid no heed to her pleadings.  “Who’s this Jose you’re all talking about?” she cried.  “I know Pedro, but no Jose.”

Then she wasted no more breath in words, but gave herself strictly to the business of the moment, prolonging the straggle far beyond the patience of the sheriff and his men.  But ultimately numbers prevailed, and, although she resisted to the last moment, giving no quarter and asking none, she was finally landed outside and the door locked upon her.

Swearing volubly, the sheriff turned his attention to that far end of the hall where the deputies who had not been engaged in the struggle with Mrs. Nitschkan stood guard over Gallito and Flick, who had ranged themselves before the crimson curtain of Pearl’s dressing room.  Two men, three, counting Jose behind the curtain, against at least twenty!  Hanson, from the back of the hall, yielded to his inclination to laugh.