“Well, the second coachman and third gardener, or whatever their numbers are, can cook for themselves to-night.  You’re going with us,—­see?  With us,—­now!”

“I’ll not go, sor—­” began Mrs. O’Brien, but Big Bill picked the little woman up in his arms, as if she had been a child.

“This is a case of kidnapping a cook, Patty,” he said.  “I told you I’d do it!”

Paying no attention to his struggling burden, Farnsworth pulled shut the door of the Cartwrights’ house, shook it to make sure it closed with a snap lock, and then gently but firmly carried Mrs. O’Brien to the motor-car.

“Take the driving seat, Patty,” he directed, and, as she did so, he deposited the cook in the seat beside her.  Then he climbed into the small seat at the rear and remarked: 

“Let her go, Patty; and unless you sit still and behave yourself, Mrs. O’Brien, you’ll fall out and get damaged.  Now be a nice cook, and make the best of this.  You’re kidnapped, you see,—­you can’t help yourself,—­and so, what are you going to do about it?”

The cook sat bolt upright, her hard, unsmiling face looking straight ahead, and she replied, between clenched teeth, “Wanst I get out, I’ll go straight back home, if it’s a hundherd miles yez do be takin’ me!”

“Oh, don’t do that,” and Patty’s voice was sweet and coaxing.  “Let me tell you something, Mrs. O’Brien.  You know Susan Hastings,—­ what a nice woman she is.  Well, once I was in a great emergency, worse even than to-day, and knowing the warm, kind hearts of the Irish, I went to Susan and asked her to help me out.  And she did,—­splendidly!  Now, I know you’ve got that same warm Irish heart, but for some reason you don’t want to help me out of my trouble.  Won’t you tell me what that reason is?”

Mrs. O’Brien turned and looked at her.

“Me heart’s warrum enough,” she said, “an’ I’d be glad to sarve the likes of such a pretty leddy as yersilf,—­but, I won’t shtand bein’ carried off by kidnappers!”

“But listen,” said Patty, who was beginning to hope she could cajole the woman into a good humour; “you must realise that the gentleman is a Western man.  Now they do things very differently out there from what men do here.  If they want anything or anybody they just take them!”

“H’m, h’m,” murmured Farnsworth, affirmatively over Patty’s shoulder.

She paid no attention to his interruption, and went on, “So, you see, Mrs. O’Brien, you mustn’t mind the rude and untutored manners of the savage tribes.  This gentleman is a—­is an Indian!”

“You don’t tell me, Miss!”

“Yes, he is.  And though you’re perfectly safe if you do just as he tells you, if you rebel, he might—­he might Tomahawk you!”

“Lor’, Miss, is he as bad as that?”

“Oh, he’s awful bad!  He’s terrible!  He’s—­why, he’s irresistible!”

Big Bill was shaking with laughter, but Mrs. O’Brien couldn’t see him, and Patty herself looked half scared out of her wits.