“Did he bring your trunk and hand-baggage?”
“No, there was no room. My baggage was left at a hotel in Phœnix, and the man who drove the buckboard said that one of my father’s freighters would bring them out.”
“You never suspected that anything was wrong, Annie?” queried Dell.
“I never suspected a thing, Dell,” replied Annie, “until we turned off the Black Cañon trail to come here. Then I began to get nervous. I demanded to be allowed to leave the buckboard, but the man only laughed at me. I tried to jump, but he caught me and bound my hands and tied me to the seat of the buckboard.
“When we got here I saw a man called Bascomb. He took me off the buckboard and carried me out to the island. And there”—the girl choked—“there I met—Bernritter!”
Dell put one arm around her friend’s waist.
“You know now,” said she, “something I have all along suspected, and that is that Bernritter is a scoundrel. It is better that you should have your eyes opened to that fact now, Annie, than later.”
“I suppose so,” answered Annie, in a tone of grief and sorrow, “but it is a terrible thing to have your faith destroyed at one blow, as mine was.”
“You’ll get over it,” reassured Dell. “Were you kindly treated on the island?”
“Yes, although I was bound hand and foot and tied to a big stone. All day long and most of the night I have been there, Dell,” finished the girl, with a shiver, “and I had abundant time to think.”