talking about David Dingwell."

"What do you mean that he knows too much? Too much about what?" she
demanded.

"About the express robbery."

"Do you mean to say that--that my people--?" She choked with anger,
but back of her indignation was fear.

"I mean to say that one of your brothers was guarding Dingwell and that
later your father went up to Meldrum's place. They are starving him to
get something out of him. I serve warning on you that if they hurt my
friend--"

"Starving him!" she broke out fiercely. "Do you dare say that my
people--my father--would torture anybody? Is that what you mean, you
lying spy?"

Her fury was a spur to him. "I don't care what words you use," he
flung back wildly. "They have given him no food for three days. I
didn't know such things were done nowadays. It's as bad as what the
old Apaches did. It's devilish--"

He pulled himself up. What right had he to talk that way to the girl
who had just saved his life? Her people might be law-breakers, but he
felt that she was clean of any wrongdoing.

Her pride was shaken. A more immediate issue had driven it into the
background.

"Why should they hurt him?" she asked. "If they had meant to do that--"

"Because he won't tell what he knows--where the gold is--won't promise
to keep quiet about it afterward. What else can they do? They can't
turn him loose as a witness against them."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe a word of it." Her voice broke.
"I'm going up to see right away."

"You mean--to-night?"

"I mean now."

She turned up the gulch instead of down. Reluctantly he followed her.

Chapter XIII

Beulah Interferes

They felt their way up in the darkness. The path was rough and at
first pitch-black. After a time they emerged from the aspens into more
open travel. Here were occasional gleams of light, as if the moon
stood tip-toe and peered down between the sheer walls of Chicito to the
obscure depths below.

Beulah led. Mountain-born and bred, she was active as a bighorn. Her
slenderness was deceptive. It concealed the pack of her long rippling
muscles, the deep-breasted strength of her torso. One might have
marched a long day's journey without finding a young woman more
perfectly modeled for grace and for endurance.

"What are you going to try to do?" Beaudry asked of her timidly.

She turned on him with a burst of feminine ferocity. "Is that any of
your business? I didn't ask you