The first voice spoke again.  “Jack got off in good time, did he?”

“Got a good start,” replied the other.  “He ought to be back with the posse by ten at the latest.  I told him we would meet them at nine where this trail comes into the big road.”

“And how far do you say it is to Jim Lane’s place, by the road and the Old Trail?” asked the first voice.

At the man’s words a terrible fear gripped Sammy’s heart.  “Posse,” that could mean only one thing,—­officers of the law.  But her father’s name and her home—­in an instant Jim’s strange companionship with Wash Gibbs, their long mysterious rides together, her father’s agitation that morning, when he said good-by, with a thousand other things rushed through her mind.  What terrible thing was this that she had happened upon in the night?  What horrible trap had they set for her Daddy, her Daddy Jim?  For trap it was.  It could be nothing else.  At any risk she must hear more.  She had already lost the other man’s reply.  Calming herself, the girl listened eagerly for the next word.

A match cracked.  The light flared out, and a whiff of tobacco smoke came curling around the rock, as one of the men said:  “Are you sure there is no mistake about their meeting at Lane’s to-night?”

“Can’t possibly be,” came the answer.  “I was lying in the brush, right by the gate when the messenger got there, and I heard Jim give the order myself.  Take it all the way through, unless we make a slip to-night, it will be one of the prettiest cases I ever saw.”

“Yes,” said the other; “but you mustn’t forget that it all hinges on whether or not that bank watchman was right in thinking he recognized Wash Gibbs.”

“The man couldn’t be mistaken there,” returned the other.  “There is not another man in the country the size of Gibbs, except the two Matthews’s, and of course they’re out of the question.  Then, look!  Jim Lane was ready to move out because of the drought, when all at once, after being away several days the very time of the robbery, he changes his mind, and stays with plenty of money to carry him through.  And now, here we are to-night, with that same old Bald Knobber gang, what’s left of them, called together in the same old way by Jim himself, to meet in his cabin.  Take my word for it, we’ll bag the whole outfit, with the rest of the swag before morning.  It’s as sure as fate.  I’m glad that girl is away from home, though.”

Sammy had heard enough.  As the full meaning of the officers’ words came to her, she felt herself swaying dizzily in the saddle and clung blindly to the pony’s mane for support.  Then something in her brain kept beating out the words, “Ride, Ride, Ride.”

Never for an instant did Sammy doubt her father.  It was all some horrible mistake.  Her Daddy Jim would explain it all.  Of course he would, if—­if she could only get home first.  But the men were between her and the path that led to the road.