"Take another step forward and you'll soon find out." The voice was stern and business-like.
"But I won't harm ye."
"No, indeed you won't. I'll see to that."
"I was only foolin'," the wretch lied. "I didn't mean anything."
"Well, I'm not fooling, and I mean what I say. You thought in your base heart that I would be an easy victim, didn't you? But you now know that Glen Weston has some of her father's spirit. She can shoot, too, and if you doubt it, just try any more of your nonsense."
Curly was in a trap, and when he found that this slip of a girl was more than his match he started to give vent to his rage in vile, insolent language.
"Stop that," Glen sternly ordered. "It is bad enough to have you here without having to listen to such language. Stop; I say," she again commanded, as Curly was about to continue. "Yes, I mean it, so you needn't doubt my word. And you might as well put your hands together. Hurry up; I give you two seconds. You are not to be trusted."
Slowly Curly obeyed, and stood before the girl, his hands clasped, and completely subdued. A smile of victory flitted across Glen's face, though her eyes and mouth were expressive of the deepest scorn.
"You didn't expect this, did you?" she bantered.
"Expect what?"