e you talking about?"

"Give me a chance to breathe and I'll spit it out. Your brother
mortgaged the outfit for twenty-five thousand. You never heard about
it. Some guy who was wise croaked him. Where's the twenty-five
thousand? What's the answer?"

"Good God!" muttered Shandon.

Dart, suddenly released, moved a little further away and smoothed his
coat collar.

"The mortgage was held by a man I used to call a pal," he volunteered
further. "I don't call him that any longer. I mean old Mart."

"Martin Leland! You mean to tell me that Martin Leland held a mortgage
over the Bar L-M for twenty-five thousand dollars and that I never
heard of it?"

"Yep," answered Dart lightly. "And three months ago he foreclosed.
Funny, ain't it?"

"It's impossible. It's one of your fool lies, Dart."

"When I tell a lie, Red, I don't tell that kind. The whole thing was
recorded nice and proper. All you got to do is go to the courthouse
and look it up. I'd go for you, only the jail's in the basement and
jails always give me a cold. Or, you can go ask the Weak Sister.
He'll know about it. You gave him your power of attorney, didn't you?
Oh, he'll know, all right."

The two men stared at each other fixedly, the eyes of one frowning and
penetrating, those of the other round and innocent.

"I believe you are telling the truth," said Shandon slowly. "I don't
see why you'd lie about a thing like this-- How do you know anything
about it?" he asked suddenly.

"How do I know Hazel's name is Helga?" smiled Dart. "There's tricks in
every trade, Red."

"If this thing is true--"

"Go talk to the Weak Sister," said Dart briefly.

Wayne swung about and without reply went swiftly down toward the
corrals. Suddenly he stopped and came back.

"You didn't tell me what Miss Leland said," he said shortly.

Dart laughed in great amusement.

"She didn't say anything. She's sore as a goat, though, Red. This
Helga business sort of got on her nerves."

Then Shandon went hurriedly toward the corrals.

"Me," mused Dart, on his way to entertain Miss Helga Strawn during what
might be a period of lonely waiting for her, "I'm almost
chicken-hearted enough to feel sorry for the Weak Sister!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRUTH

"Garth!"

There was a peculiar sternness in Wayne Shandon's voice that made his
cousin start in a way which, to Shandon's taut nerves, seemed instantly
a sign of guilt. Conway finished the work he was d