was, and there was no sign of any one about.  I clambered over the railing, let myself down as far as I could, and dropped.  The slight fall did not even jar me, yet I was none too soon.  As I crouched there in the darkness, she flung open the curtains, and looked out on to the vacant balcony.  I saw the flash of light, and heard her laugh—­it was not pleasant laughter, for she was disappointed not to find me there.  After the curtains fell again I could no longer hear your voices, and my sole desire was to get back into the hotel unobserved.  I was not afraid, only I dreaded to meet any one who might recognize me.”

She paused in her recital, as though to recall more clearly the exact facts, the two riding forward, Hamlin leaning over toward her, occasionally glancing watchfully behind.

“The guests were already beginning to straggle back to the dance hall from supper, and I waited in the shadow of the building for an opportunity to slip into the hotel unobserved.  While I hid there a cavalry soldier from the fort rode up, swung down from his saddle, and ran up the steps.  I heard him ask for Major McDonald.  Almost immediately he came out again, and I passed him on the porch.  Just inside the door I met my father.  He was leaving the hotel with Dupont, and the latter swore savagely when I caught my father’s arm, asking what message the orderly had brought.  He answered strangely, saying he had received orders to go at once to Ripley on the stage; that he might be gone several days.  There was nothing about all that to startle a soldier’s daughter, but Dupont kept his hand on my father’s arm, urging him to hurry.  The actions of the man aroused my suspicions.  I knew my father was acting paymaster, and I could perceive the outlines of a leather bag bulging beneath his overcoat.  If this contained money, then I grasped Dupont’s purpose.  My plan of action occurred to me in a flash—­I would accompany him until—­until he was safely in the stage, and find opportunity to whisper warning.  I remember asking him to wait a moment for me, and rushing to the cloak room after my coat.  But when I returned they were gone.  I ran out into the street, but they were not to be seen; they had not gone toward the stage office, for the lights revealed that distance clearly, and they had had no time in which to disappear within.  With the one thought that Dupont had lured my father out of sight for purposes of robbery, I started to run down the little alley-way next the hotel.  I know now how foolish I was, but then I was reckless.  It was dark and I saw and heard nothing to warn me of danger.  It was in my mind that my father had been lured on to the open prairie behind the hotel.  Suddenly I was seized roughly, and a cloth whipped over my face before I could even scream.  I heard a voice say:  ‘Damned if it ain’t the girl!  What will we do with her?’ and then Dupont’s voice answered gruffly:  ’Hell, there ain’t anything to do, but take the little hussy along.