ords, since words did not matter now. He hearkened for a certain
voice.

The voices broke off and a man stood up. When he was within a score of
paces of the fire Howard stopped. The man's thick squat form was
clearly outlined. Unmistakably this was Monte Devine. There were two
or three other forms squatting; it was impossible to distinguish a
crouching man from a boulder.

'That you, Monte?' called Howard.

'Good guess,' came Monte's heavy, insolent voice. 'You've got one on
me, though, pardner.'

'Courtot here?' demanded Howard.

Monte Devine laughed then.

'Hello, Al,' he returned lightly. 'You and Jim sure play a great
little game of tag, don't you?'

'He isn't here, then?'

'Left an hour ago. There's just me and Bettins and True on the job.
Come on in and make yourself at home.'

Howard came on slowly. Monte might be telling the truth, and then
again lying came easy to him. Every dark blot was searched out
suspiciously by Howard's frowning eyes. Again, having read what was in
Howard's mind, Monte laughed.

'He ain't here, Al,' he insisted. 'You and him will have to make a
date if you ever get together.'

The two other men rose from the ground and stood a little aside. No
doubt they were True and Bettins; still neither had spoken and in this
uncertain light either might be Courtot.

'Hello, True,' said Howard shortly. True's voice answered him.
'Hello, Bettins,' he said, and it was Bettin's voice replying.

'Where did Jim go?' he asked.

'Search me,' retorted Monte Devine. Then, a hint of a jeer in his
voice, 'Going to stay out there in the dark all night? 'Fraid Jim'll
be hiding out waiting to pot you?'

The other men laughed.

'That's his sort of play,' muttered Alan coolly.

He took his time to look about. Little by little the mystery shrouding
this and that object dissolved and showed him a rock or a bush. He
heard a snapping bit of brush off to the right and wheeled toward it.
It was a horse moving. He circled the fire and went to it. Beyond
were two other horses, only three in all. Then he shrugged his
shoulders and jammed his revolver angrily into its holster and came
back to the figures by the fire.

'Longstreet is a friend of mine,' he said shortly. 'I am going to see
him through, Monte.'

'Who's Longstreet?' demanded Monte.

'I guess you know. He's the man who found gold up here yesterday.
He's the man Sanchia Murray brought to you at the Montezuma House.