“Then up you go, miss; here, put your foot on the wheel; give her a lift, will you?”

Anxious to escape further indignities, and comprehending the uselessness of any further struggle, with a man on either side of her, Miss Donovan silently clambered into the wagon, and seated herself on a wide board, evidently arranged for that purpose.  The fellow who had held back the top followed, and snuggled into the seat beside her.  She noticed now he held a gun in his hand, which he deposited between his knees.  The leader drew back the flap of canvas endeavouring to peer into the dark interior.

“All set?”

“Sure.”

“Well, keep awake, Joe, and mind what I told yer.  Now, Moore, up with you, and drive like hell; you must be in the bad lands before daylight.”

A fellow clambered to the seat in front, his figure outlined against the sky, and picked up the reins.  Those within could hear the shuffling of the horses’ feet as though they were eager to be off.  The driver leaned forward.

“Whoa, there, now; quiet, Jerry.  Did you say I was to take the ridge road?”

“You bet; it’s all rock and will leave no trail.  Take it easy and quiet until you are beyond Hennessey’s ranch, and then give them the whip.”

The next moment they were under way, slowly advancing through the darkness.

CHAPTER XVII:  IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT

Her guard spoke no word as the wagon rolled slowly onward, but she judged that he leaned back against the bow supporting the canvas in an effort to make himself as comfortable as possible.  She could see nothing of the fellow in the darkness, but had formed an impression that he was of medium size, his face covered with a scraggly beard.  The driver sat bundled up in formless perspective against the line of sky, but she knew from his voice that he was the man who had first accosted her.  In small measure this knowledge afforded some degree of courage, for he had then appeared less brutal, more approachable than the others.  Perhaps she might lead him to talk, once they were alone together, and thus learn the purpose of this outrage.

Yet deep down in her mind she felt little doubt of the object in view, or who were involved.  Excited as she was, and frightened, the girl was still composed enough to grasp the nature of her surroundings, and she had time now, as the wagon rumbled forward, to think over all that had been said, and fit it into the circumstances.

Moreover she had recognised another voice—­although the speaker had kept out of sight, and spoken only in disguised, rumbling tones—­that of Ned Beaton.  The fact of his presence alone served to make the affair reasonably clear.  The telegram stolen from her room by Miss La Rue had led to this action.  They had suspected her before, but that had served to confirm their suspicions, and as soon as it had been shown to Enright, he had determined to place her where she would be helpless to interfere with their plans.