is tough as a pine knot. Can't
we persuade him to go with us? He's been so loyal and lovable I hate
to leave him."

"I don't think you need worry, sir--he won't be alone."

"But Skinner is going with us."

"Yes--but he'll have company."

"Who?"

"The man you saw yesterday. You didn't suspect, perhaps, but that was
Bob Dinsmore, who killed Bailey."

"The hide-out!" exclaimed Thayor, with a start.

"Yes, he's been around here ever since we came."

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Why didn't you let me see him?"

"Well, we didn't think any good would come of it, sir. Hite won't let
him go hungry if he can help it, and he can now. We haven't eaten half
the grub we brought."

Thayor stood for a moment in deep thought, reached down into his
pocket and took from it a roll of bills.

"Hand this to Holt, Billy, and tell him to give it to the poor fellow
from me."

CHAPTER SIX

When Blakeman opened the steel grille for his master at an early hour
the day following, the thought uppermost in his mind was the change in
Thayor's appearance. He saw at a glance that the wilderness had put
a firmness into his step and a heartiness in his voice, as well as
a healthy colour in his cheeks, such as he had not seen in him for
years. He would gladly have sacrificed his month's salary to have been
with him, and more than once during his absence had he gone to his
room, finding a certain consolation even in looking for rust spots on
his favourite gun.

With the casting off of his heavy travelling coat and hat, Thayor's
first words were of his daughter.

"And how is Miss Margaret?" he asked, as Blakeman followed him
upstairs with his gun and great-coat.

Dr. Sperry's villainous verdict still rankled in the butler's mind,
and at first he had half decided to tell Thayor all he had overheard
in the teakwood room. Then the pain it would give his master
restrained him.

"Miss Margaret is quite well, sir," he returned in the unctious, calm
voice he assumed in service.

"Ah, that's good. She's asleep, I suppose, at this hour."

"I presume so, sir, as she was out rather late last night. I beg
pardon, sir, but might I ask if you have had good luck?"

"Well, I managed to kill a fine buck, Blakeman," returned his master,
as he continued up the stairs.

"Did you, indeed, sir!" exclaimed Blakeman, his face lighting up.
"Well, I'm happy to hear it, sir--I am, indeed. A full blue-coat, sir,
I dare say."

"Yes, and a splendid set of h