Well, she'll lose her struggle; has lost it;
that's settled. Come on to dinner."
On the verandah he paused sharply, whirling about with the swiftness of
a tiger. Ramos, the Mexican, had come galloping out of the jungle,
flogging his horse as he came.
"Well?" Garman's attitude, suggested the crouch of a tiger ready to
spring.
"_Si_! Yes; it is so!"
"They've got him?"
"Yes. He is on Palm Island, surrounded; not caught."
"A-a-ah!" Garman rubbed his hands together as a growl of triumph
rumbled up from his thick red throat. "Have Prince saddled, Ramos.
Then ride back and watch so they don't hurt him. I'll follow--I'm
called away--on business, Annette. You entertain Mr. Payne."
With a leap he was off the verandah and running for the stables.
Payne met him as he mounted, and caught the horse by the head.
"Garman, who's the man Ramos spoke of?"
"Let go, you fool! The brute's a striker."
Payne dodged the flash of the animal's forehoofs, but caught a bridle
rein.
"Who is he, Garman?"
"A fool--trespassing. Just business."
"Not Higgins or any of my men?"
"No, nobody you know. Look out!"
The horse lunged forward. Payne stepped aside. Garman was gone, like
a hunter in sight of his quarry.
XXV
The silence that followed was broken by Annette's laughter.
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