pistol -- my God -- like a
dog. ...

"Then, the next time I took a chance he was gone. ... And I beat it here
to get me a rifle----" The boy broke down and sobbed: "He drove me
around -- like a dog -- he did----"

"You leave that to me," interrupted Lannis sharply. And, to Wier: "You
and George had better get a gun apiece. That fellow _might_ come back
here or go to Harrod Place if we starve him out."

Wier said to Fry: "Go up to Harrod Place and tell Jansen your story and
bring back two 45-70's. ... And quit snivelling. ... You may get a shot
at him yet."

Lannis had already ridden down to the brook. Now he jumped his horse
across, pulled up, called back to Wier:

"I think our man is making for Drowned Valley, all right. My mate,
Stormont, telephoned me that some of his gang are there, and that Mike
Clinch and his gang have them stopped on the other side! Keep your eye
on Harrod Place!"

And away he cantered into the North.

* * * * *

Behind the curtains of her open window Eve Strayer, lying on her bed,
had heard every word.

Crouched there beside her pillow she peered out and saw Trooper Lannis
ride away; saw the Fry boy start toward Harrow Place on a run; saw Ralph
Wier watch them out of sight and then turn and re-enter the lodge.

Wrapped in Darragh's big blanket robe she got off the bed and opened her
chamber door as Wier was passing through the living-room.

"Please -- I'd like to speak to you a moment," she called.

Wier turned instantly and came to the partly open door.

"I want to know," she said, "where I am."

"Ma'am?"

"What is this place?"

"It's a hatchery----"

"Whose?"

"Ma'am?"

"Whose lodge is this? Does it belong to Harrod Place?"

"We're h-hootch runners, Miss----" stammered Wier, mindful of
instructions, but making a poor business of deception; "-- I and Hal
Smith, we run a `Easy One,' and we strip trout for a blind and sell to
Harrod Place -- Hal and I----"

"_Who_ is Hal Smith?" she asked.

"Ma'am?"

The girl's flower-blue eyes turned icy: "Who is the man who calls
himself Hal Smith?" she repeated.

Wier looked at her, red and dumb.

"Is he a Trooper in plain clothes?" she demanded in a bitter voice. "Is
he one of the Commissioner's spies? Are _you_ one, too?"

Wier gazed miserably at her, unable to formulate a convincing lie.

She flushed swiftly as a terrible suspicion seized her:

"Is this Harrod property? Is Hal Smith old Harrod's heir? _Is_ h