d taken precaution to send his letter from a
village post-office, and his message from a railway station ten miles
east of Argenta, the spies of Silver Shield had heard of one or both,
and now their watcher knew that two at least of the enemy were in their
camp. For what else was young Breifogle there? For what but to give
warning had he so suddenly vanished?

It was of all this that Geordie was thinking, as silently he strode
along by the side of the two elders, hearing yet scarcely heeding their
eager talk. He had plans and projects of his own. Father was not the
only one who had a friend or two in Yampah and up the range. Veteran
troopers of the old regiment were scouting there for gold and silver,
where ten years earlier they had scouted for the red warriors of
Colorow and Yampah Jack. If he could but get in touch with Nolan, with
Feeny, with almost any one of those now mining who once rode in "E"
Troop! If he could only reach some of the men he guided over the
Divide to the successful capture of the gang that looted the First
National! Oh, the shame of Breifogle's ingratitude! As one of the
bank's directors at that time, he had pledged everlasting gratitude to
the officers and troopers who had restored their treasure.

Suddenly Warden turned a corner, pushed back a swinging door, led the
way into a clean, brightly lighted little "dairy" restaurant, passed on
through to the less public tables partitioned off in alcoves of their
own, and here, behind an outspread newspaper, sat, lonely and
expectant, a broad-shouldered ranchman whose weather-beaten face beamed
joyously at sight of the three, and whose big hands were on young
Graham's squared shoulders before they had fairly shaken greeting to
any one. "Geordie, mon, but it's glad I am to see ye!" was the
whispered welcome. "Softly, now, there's--others here."

Quickly they were served with steaks, scrambled eggs, toast, tea or
coffee, as they chose, and two at least were hungry, yet Geordie,
brimful of eagerness to put his plan into execution, could hardly
spare time to eat. Yes, Ross knew Nolan and Feeny of old. Many's the
time they'd dropped in at the ranch when antelope-stalking down the
foot-hills. Nolan had prospered. He and Feeny, both, when last heard of
were somewhere up among the mines. Burns was in Collins's Camp on Lance
Creek. Toomey and Scully had got "cleaned out" and were firing on the
Transcontinental.

"Where?" demanded Geordie, his eyes dilating