She pointed in the direction the men had disappeared and Garry nodded. The next moment he had spurred his pony in pursuit, followed by several other horsemen who had come up behind him.
The girls watched them go, and Joe, coming up behind them, laid a dirty hand upon his sister’s shoulder.
“You—you were great, Sis, to those men!” he said awkwardly. “I was awfully proud of you.”
Dorothy smiled through tears and, taking Joe’s grimy hand, pressed it against her cheek.
“It is so wonderful to have you again, dear!” she said huskily.
They were back again in a moment, Garry and his men, bringing with them two captives—the big-framed, loose-lipped fellow who had first taunted Joe in the cave, and George Lightly.
By Garry’s face it was easy to see he was in no mood to deal gently with his prisoners.
He dismounted, threw the bridle to one of the men, and approached the big fellow whom he knew to be a tool of the Larrimer gang.
The fellow was sullen and glowering, but Garry was a good enough judge to guess that beneath this exterior the fellow was ready to break.
“Now then,” Garry said coolly, as he pressed the muzzle of his revolver in uncomfortable proximity to the ribs of his prisoner, “you tell us what you were doing in that cave over there and you’ll go scot free. Otherwise, it’s jail for you—if not worse. My men,” he added, in a gentle drawl, “are just hankering to take part in a lynching party. It’s a right smart time since they have been treated to that sort of entertainment, and they are just ripe for a little excitement. How about it, boys, am I right?”