"Y-you sh-sh-shut up, B-Bill," and the huge form of Stutter Brown loomed up directly between them, and that menacing rifle. "I-I reckon as how I'll t-t-take a h-hand in this yere g-g-game. Sh-she ain't no s-spy fer Farnham, er I 'm a l-l-liar." He touched her softly with his great hand, bending down to look into her face, half hidden beneath the ruffled black hair. "C-come, little g-g-girl, what's up?"
She made no response, her lips faltering as though suddenly stricken dumb. Beth Norvell dropped down from the pony's back, and stood with one hand resting on Mercedes' shoulder.
"She only came to show me the way," she explained bravely. "I-I have a most important message for Mr. Winston. Where is he?"
"Important, d-did you s-s-say?"
"Yes, its delivery means life or death—for Heaven's sake, take me to him!"
For a single breathless moment Brown hesitated, his eyes on the girl's upturned face, evidently questioning her real purpose.
"I c-can't right n-now, Miss," he finally acknowledged, gravely; "that's s-straight; fer ye s-s-see, he 's down the 'I-I-Independence' shaft."