Beth Norvell

The old man sat down on an outcropping stone, pulled out his pipe and

lit it, puffing thick rings of smoke into the air with manifest

enjoyment. Winston did not answer until the other again turned his

eyes upon him questioningly.

"I was busy thinking," explained the engineer, "but must confess the

situation looks about as bad to me as it does to you. The silver

lining of this cloud is not apparent. Of course, we 've got the right

of it, but in some way Fate has managed to leave us set square against

the law. We 're outlaws without having done a thing to warrant it.

There is n't but one possible way out, and that is for us to get on the

right side again. Now, how can it be done? Some one of us will have

to go down to San Juan, before those fellows get over here in force,

swear out warrants against Farnham and his partners, and have this

whole affair probed to the bottom. We 've got them, if we can only get

the ear of the District Attorney, and shift this fight into the courts.

The trouble is, Farnham was smart enough to get there ahead of us, and

he 'll win out if we don't move quick and block him. I can't go

myself, for I 'm a prisoner, and must remain with the sheriff, or will

be considered a fugitive. The only question is, Can any one hope to

get through?"

Hicks permitted his gaze to stray out across the dim valley below, then

up toward the ragged summit of the overhanging crest of rocks. Through

the smoke of his pipe he deliberately surveyed Stutter Brown, perched

motionless at the edge of his watchtower, a Winchester silhouetted

black against the stone.

"Not down thet way, anyhow," he announced, finally, pointing with his

pipe-stem. "I reckon a mosquiter could n't git through along thet

trail ternight. Ever hear tell o' Daggett Station?"

Winston rubbed his chin, endeavoring to recall the name.

"I 'm not sure. Is it the water-tank and section-house, next stop

below Bolton Junction, on the main line?"

"You 've called the tarn. Wal, it's over thar," pointing apparently

into the heart of the mountain, "straight south, twenty miles as ther

crow flies from the foot o' this rise, across as barren a sand waste as

ever broke a man's heart--nary drop o' water from start ter finish, an'

hot--oh, hell!" He paused, thinking. "But I hardly reckon them people

would ever think 'bout guardin' thet way out, an' a good rider could

make it easy afore daylight, an' catch the train East."

"How do you get down?"

"Through a long, twistin' ravine; it's a mean place fer travellin', an'

you have ter lead the hoss till yer strike the sand."