ahead on their errand.

The pair were now advancing toward the saloon, along the opposite side
of the street where a slight shadow afforded them concealment. By the
time they came opposite the building they had escaped altogether from
the crowd, though looking thither over shoulder they could see the
black press of people in the moonlight at the public building; and
here the street was empty except for a few belated women and children
running toward the assemblage.

Madden's hand suddenly gripped the engineer's arm as they were about
to step forth from the shadow to cross the street to the saloon.

"There he is," the sheriff whispered.

Vorse had pushed open the slatted door of his place and stepped
outside. In the moonlight his figure and face were clearly visible:
his thin whip-cord body and predatory face, and bald head as shiny and
hard as a fish-scale. He wore no coat, while his vest hung unbuttoned
and open as usual. About his waist was an ammunition belt carrying a
holster, as if he were prepared for action.

Thus he stood for a time, hands on hips, motionless, his cruel
hatchet-like face directed towards the scene further along the street.
Presently a man came running to him, Miguel, his bartender, who had
been one of the two men serving out whiskey to the workmen at the old
adobe house and who at the break-up of the spree had hastened back to
town to report to his employer. Now, it seemed, he had fresher news to
give.

"Yes, it is the engineer, for a certainty," he exclaimed panting, as
he stopped before Vorse. "The sheriff arrested him and he now lies in
jail there. It is said he fought and tried to shoot Madden, but that
the sheriff was too quick and shot the gun out of his hand. It is said
also that the dam is blown into a million little stones, but men are
riding there on horses to see for themselves. They will soon return.
Anyway a fight there was up there undoubtedly, for Madden brought in
not only the engineer but three other men, bound and handcuffed and
struggling furiously, trying to strike and bite the crowd like mad
dogs. From time to time the sheriff had to beat them on the heads with
his pistol, especially the engineer, who is the worst. I did not see
them, but those who did said their faces were streaming with blood."

"All right. Go find Jose Molina and 'Silver' Leon."

"Are they not up in the hills with their bands of sheep?"

"No. They are here. Look around till you find them; then