The two men looked at each other in silence, that silence which is more terrible than any sound can be, even the cry of anguish.

Varley’s face was livid, and big drops of sweat stood upon his forehead.

“Gone!” said Norman at last, and in a whisper. “What do you mean?”

“She has gone!” said Varley. “They have kidnapped her!”

“Do you mean to say that they have taken Esmeralda away?” said Norman, in utter amazement.

Varley assented with a gesture and a groan.

“Why did you leave her unprotected?” asked Norman.

But he was sorry, a moment afterward, that he had allowed the question to escape him, for Varley looked as if he had been struck.

“She was not alone,” he said. “Mother Melinda was with her. They can both use a revolver as well as you or I. Esmeralda is a dead shot.” He glanced at the weapons on the wall of the hut. “She must have been lured outside, and they must have taken her suddenly by some trick, and before she could utter a cry; for, if she had shouted, some one would have heard her.”

“Why should they take her—Esmeralda?” asked Norman, still in the same awe-struck whisper.

Varley’s head drooped.

“Because it’s the deadliest blow Dog’s Ear could strike at us all,” he said. “We prevented them robbing the coach the other day, and this is their revenge.”

“The curs!” ground out Norman.

Varley started suddenly, as if awakening from the paralysis of anguish.

“What are we standing here for?” he said, almost fiercely. “Give me your horse. Follow me down to the camp!”

He sprung into the saddle and rode down to the camp, Norman following him as fast as he could run. The men were coming out of the saloon, and Varley rode into their midst, pulling up his horse on its haunches. He had regained[295] something of his presence of mind by this time, and his voice was almost as clear and cool as usual as he said:

“Boys, I’ve bad news. They’ve taken Esmeralda.”

After a moment, they grasped his meaning. There was no need to ask who had taken her; they all understood. A roar like the growl of an infuriated wild beast rose, and every man’s hand went to his weapon, while they thronged round Varley, instinctively waiting for his word of command. He drew his head up with the air of the born leader, and kept them cool by his own coolness.

“Let every man mount and meet me on the road,” he said. “Let there be no noise, no shouting.”

“Ay, ay!” came the instant response. They rushed off. Taffy brought Varley’s horse, and Norman sprung on to his own.

“What do you mean to do?” he asked.

“Bring her back, if I have to kill every man in Dog’s Ear!” said Varley between his clinched teeth.

In a few minutes they heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs, but not a word, so implicitly was Varley obeyed. He and Norman rode toward the road. Neither of them at that moment thought of Norman’s mission, or, indeed, cared anything about it. Esmeralda was in danger, and everything else was of secondary importance.

By the time they had reached the bend of the road they found the men awaiting them. They looked a formidable band, and their silence was more ominous than any shouting or fierce oaths could have been. Some of the men’s faces were as white as Varley’s own, and there was a look on Taffy’s so full of blood-thirstiness that for a moment or two Norman could not take his eyes from him.

“Boys,” said Varley in a low voice, “we shall go to Dog’s Ear and demand Esmeralda. Let no man speak but me; let no man fire a shot or strike a blow unless I give the word.”

The men gave a hoarse assent, and the band went forward, Varley and Norman leading the way.

“They will not harm her?” said Norman, almost inaudibly.

“They dare not,” said Varley, hoarsely—“they dare not!”

“You mean that they will hold her to ransom?” asked Norman, feverishly.

Varley nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “or they would have killed her at the hut.”

Norman drew a long breath of relief. They rode on in silence, the dull thud of the horses’ hoofs breaking the deep[296] silence of the night. As they approached Dog’s Ear they heard the baying of dogs, then saw lights moving to and fro. It was evident that the camp had been made aware of their approach.

Dog’s Ear lay in a little hollow, and as Varley and Norman rode down the winding pathway, almost at full gallop, they heard men shouting, and presently saw forms looming in the semi-darkness. They rode straight into the camp, and were instantly surrounded by a crowd of men and women, the former with their revolvers in their hands.

One man, a burly fellow as large as Taffy, and evidently one of the leaders, pushed forward and looked up at Varley with a scowl of surprise and resentment.

“What’s this ’ere,” he growled—“a picnic?”

A hoarse kind of roar, low and threatening, arose from the Three Star men. Varley held up his hand to command silence.

“You can call it a picnic if you like,” he said, and his voice was almost as soft and languid as when he was calling the game. “You know what we have come for.”

The man glared at him.

“You’re wrong!” he said, with an oath.

“That’s a lie!” said Varley. “My daughter has been stolen from our camp. She is here!”

The man began a grin, but it died away at a look that suddenly came into Varley’s face.

“Oh, the gal’s been stolen?” said the man. “Well, that’s no business of ours. You ought to be able to take care of your own gals.”

Varley’s revolver—and not only Varley’s—covered him. He drew back slightly.

“We know nothing about it,” he said, sullenly. “We didn’t take her, and she ain’t here. We’ve plenty of gals of our own; in fact, too many, and you’re welcome to some of ’em as I could name.”

Varley turned his head over his shoulder.

“Search the camp, boys,” he said, briefly.

The Dog’s Ear men were not all cowards, and they snarled and showed their teeth, and the big man was unwise enough to seize Varley’s bridle. The next instant his arm fell useless to his side; Varley had struck it with the butt end of his revolver.

“See here,” he said, “there’s no need for fighting unless you’re spoiling for it. We mean to search the camp, every inch of it; we’ll do it quietly, if you like, but we shall do it.[297] The first man who hinders us will pay the penalty. You know me!”

The big man cursed him fluently and with an astonishing wealth of detail; but none of his men ventured to raise a weapon, for the Three Star men had gradually surrounded him and pressed them into a little group. Varley addressed a dozen men by name.

“Keep guard,” he said, “and if any man offers to move, shoot him; otherwise don’t fire a shot.” Then he and Norman dismounted, and, followed by Taffy and several others, commenced their search. With candles and torches of pine wood in their hands they went the round from tent to tent, hut to hut; every tool-shed, every inch of cover was closely examined. As they proceeded, Varley’s heart grew heavier. Esmeralda was not there.

“What is to be done?” asked Norman.

Varley wiped the sweat from his brow and looked straight before him without answering. At that moment, the vivid imaginations of both men were busy picturing the girl they loved so dearly helpless in the hands of an implacable and unscrupulous foe. Varley went back to the crowd of prisoners and confronted the big man, whose arm was now bandaged to his side.

“She is not here,” he said, sternly.

The man swore.

“I told you so,” he said. “You call yourself a clever man, Mr. Varley Howard; I call yer a fool to think that we should bring the gal here where yer could foller her. I tell ye we know nothin’ about ’er. Most like she’s gone back to England, where she come from.”

Varley retained his calm by a supreme effort. His eye wandered over the sullen group.

“There is one of you I miss,” he said. “Where is Simon?”

“He ain’t here,” said the man; then he leered malignantly. “Ah, Simon!” he said, “now yer mention it, I shouldn’t be surp............