is companion's incredulity.

"I can't make anything of it," premised Bob, "except that he has
something on his mind. If you'll tell me what happened from the time
he jumped through the window at Calabasas till he walked into his room
that night at the barn, I'll tell you what he's thinking about."

"What do you mean, what happened?"

"Henry left some things out of his story."

"How do you know?"

"I heard him tell it."

Jeffries, acting without delay on the suspicion that de Spain was
getting ready to resign, raised his salary. To his surprise, de Spain
told him that the company was already paying him more than he was
worth and declined the raise; yet he took nobody whomsoever into his
confidence.

However, the scent of something concealed in de Spain's story had long
before touched Lefever's own nostrils, and he was stimulated by mere
pride to run the secret down. Accordingly, he set himself to find, in
a decent way, something in the nature of an explanation.

De Spain, in the interval, made no progress in his endeavor to see
Nan. The one man in the country who could have surmised the situation
between the two--the barn boss, McAlpin--if he entertained suspicions,
was far too pawky to share them with any one.

When two weeks had passed without de Spain's having seen Nan or having
heard of her being seen, the conclusion urged itself on him that she
was either ill or in trouble--perhaps in trouble for helping him; a
moment later he was laying plans to get into the Gap to find out.

Nothing in the way of a venture could be more foolhardy--this he
admitted to himself--nothing, he consoled himself by reflecting, but
something stronger than danger could justify it. Of all the motley
Morgan following within the mountain fastness he could count on but
one man to help him in the slightest degree--this was the derelict,
Bull Page. There was no choice but to use him, and he was easily
enlisted, for the Calabasas affair had made a heroic figure of de
Spain in the barrooms. De Spain, accordingly, lay in wait for the old
man and intercepted him one day on the road to Sleepy Cat, walking
the twenty miles patiently for his whiskey.

"You must be the only man in the Gap, Bull, that can't borrow or steal
a horse to ride," remarked de Spain, stopping him near the river
bridge.

Page pushed back the broken brim of his hat and looked up. "You
wouldn't believe it," he said, imparting a cheerful confidence, "but
ten years ago