the
story of Ba'tiste told Barry that he had found him just at dawn, a full
five hundred yards from the machine.

"I see heem move," the big voice was saying, "jus' as I go to look at
my trap. Then Golemar come beside me and raise his hair along his neck
and growl--r-r-r-r-r-u-u-f-f-f--like that. I look again--it is jus' at
the dawn. I cannot see clearly. I raise my gun to shoot, and Golemar,
he growl again. Then I think eet strange that the bear or whatever he
is do not move. I say to Golemar, 'We will closer go, _ne c'est pas_?'
A step or two--then three--but he do not move--then pretty soon I look
again, close. Eet is a man, I pick heem up, like this--and I bring
heem home. _Ne c'est pas_, Medaine?"

Her name was Medaine then. Not bad, Barry thought. It rather matched
her hair and the tilt of her nose and the tone of her laugh as she
answered:

"I would say you carried him more like a sack of meal, Ba'tiste. I'm
glad I happened along when I did; you might have thrown him over your
shoulder!"

A booming laugh answered her and the sound of a light scuffle, as
though the man were striving to catch the girl in his big embrace. But
the cold voice of Thayer cut in:

"And he hasn't regained consciousness?"

"Not yet. That is, I think he's recovered his senses, all right, and
fallen immediately into a heavy sleep."

"Guess I'll go in and stay with him until he wakes up. He's my boss,
you know--since the old man died. We've got a lot of important things
to discuss. So if you don't mind--"

"Certainly not." It was the girl again. "We'll go in with you."

"No, thanks. I want to see him alone."

Within the bedroom, Barry Houston gritted his teeth. Then, with a
sudden resolve, he rested his head again on the pillow and closed his
eyes as the sound of steps approached. Closer they came to the bed,
and closer. Barry could feel that the man was bending over him,
studying him. There came a murmur, almost whispered:

"Wonder what the damn fool came out here about? Wonder if he's wise?"

CHAPTER III

It was with an effort that Houston gave no indication that he had
heard. Before, there had been only suspicions, one flimsy clue leading
to another, a building-block process, which, in its culmination, had
determined Barry to take a trip into the West to see for himself. He
had believed that it would be a long process, the finding of a certain
telegram and the possibilities which might ensu