Hicks leaned across the table and whispered rapidly. His old acquaintance drew back, with a sudden suspicion.
"But no foolin' this time," warned Hicks. "Only part money in advance."
He produced $5,000 in bills from his trousers pocket, but secreted it again quickly as the waiter appeared.
Patten got up and sauntered out into the barroom, returning presently with three men of his own brand—broad-built, grim-eyed ruffians of the far north country—three of Case Egan's cattlemen.
In the meantime Mrs. Haines was flustered not only by the prospect of meeting her distinguished friend, but by the tumultuous staging of the great hold-up scene that was to mark Pauline's welcome. Hal had been up at three o'clock in the morning rehearsing the boys in their parts. He had set off at five o'clock for the station.
As Pauline, trim in her traveling suit of gray and blithe in the clear Western air, tripped from the express, all Rockvale was there to meet her. Hal Haines, mighty man that he was in the region, was red with pride as the girl who could stop the express at Rockvale gave him her hand in happy greeting.
As he helped her into the two-seated buckboard, no one in the crowd noticed the man who had arrived the night before standing on the platform and pointing out the girl to Tom Patten who was seen to mount and ride rapidly away.
"I hope you saved some of that lovely Wild West for me, Mr. Haines," said Pauline, as the finest pair of horses in the Double Cross stable whisked them along the road to the ranch.
"Very little left, Miss Marvin—very little left; still—whoa, there! What's this?"
At a bend in the road five masked and mounted men had dashed from cover and quickly surrounded the buckboard with a small circle of leveled gun-barrels.