Again she hesitated briefly, overcome by her emotions. Stratton’s face was stony, save for a momentary ripple of the muscles about his mouth.
“And then?” he questioned.
“I—I tried to go to her, but Pedro held me in the chair.” Mrs. Archer drew a long, quivering breath. “Lynch had her by the wrist; I heard him say something about not hurting her; and then he said, quite plainly, that since she’d got him in this mess, she’d have to get him out. I couldn’t understand, but all at once I realized that if they did—take her away, they’d probably tie me up, or something, to prevent my giving the alarm, and so I pretended to faint.”
She lifted her handkerchief to her lips and let it fall again. “It wasn’t easy to lie still in that chair and see the dear child—being dragged away. But I knew I’d be quite helpless against those two villains. She—she didn’t struggle much; perhaps she hadn’t the strength.” The old lady’s voice shook, and she began again plucking nervously at her handkerchief. “The minute they were out of the door, I got up and followed them. I thought perhaps I might be able to see which way they went. It was pitch-dark, and I crept along beside the house to the corner. I could just see their outlines over by the corral. Pedro was 312 saddling two horses. When he had done, that creature, Lynch, made Mary mount and got on his own horse, which he had been leading. Then the two men began to talk. I couldn’t hear everything, but it sounded as if they were arranging to meet somewhere. They gave the name of a place.”
Her eyes searched Buck’s face with a troubled, anxious scrutiny. “So many Arizona towns have a foreign sound, but somehow I—I’ve never even heard of Santa Clara.”
“Santa Clara!” burst out Bud. “Why, that’s over in Sonora. If he should get her across the border—”
Mrs. Archer sprang to her feet and caught Stratton by one arm. “Mexico!” she cried hysterically. “Oh, Buck! You must save her from that creature! You mustn’t let him—”
“He sha’n’t. Don’t worry,” interrupted Stratton harshly. “Tell me as quickly as you can what else you heard. Was there anything said about the way he meant to take?”
Mrs. Archer clenched her small hands and fought bravely for self-control. “He said he—he might be delayed. He didn’t dare take the road through Perilla, and the trail through the mountains was probably blocked by the sheriff.” Her forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “He said the only way was to—to go 313 through the pass and turn south along the edge of the T-T land. That—that was all.”
Buck’s face lighted with somber satisfaction. “It’s a good bit,” he said briefly. “When they started off did you notice which way they went?”