" advised Rutherford.
"If you tempt the boys enough, they're liable to forget it. You've
been behaving mighty aggravating to Dan."

"Me!" Dave opened his eyes in surprise. "I was just asking him how
he'd like to go back to Santa Fe after you-all turn me loose."

"We're not going to turn you loose till we reach an agreement. What's
the use of being pigheaded? We're looking for that gold and we're
going to find it mighty soon. Now be reasonable."

"How do you know you're going to find it?"

"Because we know you couldn't have taken it far. Here's the point.
You had it when Fox made his getaway. Beulah was right behind you, so
we know you didn't get a chance to bury it between there and town. We
covered your tracks and you didn't leave the road in that half-mile.
That brings you as far as Battle Butte. You had the gunnysack when you
crossed the bridge. You didn't have it when Slim Sanders met you. So
you must have got rid of it in that distance of less than a quarter of
a mile. First off, I figured you dropped the sack in Hague's alfalfa
field. But we've tramped that all over. It's not there. Did you meet
some one and give it to him? Or how did you get rid of it?"

"I ate it," grinned Dingwell confidentially.

"The boys are getting impatient, Dave. They don't like the way you
butted in."

"That's all right. You're responsible for my safety, Hal. I'll let
you do the worrying."

"Don't fool yourself. We can't keep you here forever. We can't let
you go without an agreement. Figure out for yourself what's likely to
happen?"

"Either my friends will rescue me, or else I'll escape."

"Forget it. Not a chance of either." Rutherford stopped, struck by an
idea. "Ever hear of a young fellow called Cherokee Street?"

"No. Think not. Is he a breed?"

"White man." Rutherford took a chair close to Dingwell. He leaned
forward and asked another question in a low voice. "Never happened to
meet the son of John Beaudry, did you?"

Dingwell looked at him steadily out of narrowed eyes. "I don't get
you, Hal. What has he got to do with it?"

"Thought maybe you could tell me that. He's in the park now."

"In the park?"

"Yes--and Jess Tighe knows it."

"What's he doing here?"

But even as he asked the other man, Dingwell guessed the answer. Not
an hour before he had caught a glimpse of a white, strained face at the
window. He knew now whose face it was.

"He's spying on us and sleuthing