“I’ll make it,” was the thought of the ruffian. “And what more can I want? I’ve got the emeralds and the girl, and I’ve got rid of the fellers that might be inclined to make trouble—would shorely make trouble if they knowed I had the emeralds. I’ll hit some trail runnin’ into Mexican territory, and git out of the country. And then!”
He looked at the white face of the girl, who had fallen limp in his villainous arms.
CHAPTER XLII.
A ROUGH DIPLOMAT.
When Lena Forest came to a full realization of her changed position, she was alone with Black John.
About them were rugged hills, hemming in a little valley, where the captured Indian pony was grazing.
Black John had gone into camp there, and was cooking some meat he had found on the Indian pony. He was not only tired, but by this time ravenously hungry.
“Don’t be skeered,” he said, when he discovered that Lena was taking note of her surroundings. “I don’t mean any harm to ye, not in the least.”
She started up, staring about; then turned to him. Her face was corpselike in its pallor, and she swayed as she stood up.
“Then, why did you bring me here; and why keep me here?” she said. “Why don’t you join your men?”
Black John stooped to sniff the roasting meat before replying.