g up his arm, pointing.

"Yonder. To the mountains. We'll reach them in about two hours and a
half. Then, in another two hours or so, we'll come to where Brocky is.
Way up on the flank of Mt. Temple. It's going to be a long, hard
climb. For you, at the end of a tiresome day. . . ."

"How about yourself?" she asked quickly, and he knew that she was
smiling at him through the dark. "Unless you're made of iron I'm
almost inclined to believe that after your friend Brocky I'll have
another patient. Who is he, by the way?"

"Brocky Lane? I was going to tell you. You saw something stirring in
the patio at Engle's? I had seen it first; it was Ignacio who had
slipped in under the wide arch from the gardens at the rear of the
house. He had been sent for me by Tom Cutter, my deputy. Brocky Lane
is foreman of a big cattle-ranch lying just beyond the mountains; he is
also working with me and with Cutter, although until I've told you
nobody knows it but ourselves and John Engle. . . . Before the night
is out you'll know rather a good deal about what is going on, Miss
Page," he added thoughtfully.

"More than you'd have been willing for me to know if circumstance
hadn't forced your hand?"

"Yes," he admitted coolly. "To get anywhere we've had to sit tight on
the game we're playing. But, from the word Cutter brings, poor old
Brocky is pretty hard hit, and I couldn't take any chances with his
life even though it means taking chances in another direction."

He might have been a shade less frank; and yet she liked him none the
less for giving her the truth bluntly. He was but tacitly admitting
that he knew nothing of her; and yet in this case he would prefer to
call upon her than on Caleb Patten.

"No, I don't trust Patten," he continued, the chain of thought being
inevitable. "Not that I'd call him crooked so much as a fool for Jim
Galloway to juggle with. He talks too much."

"You wish me to say nothing of to-night's ride?"

"Absolutely nothing. If you are missed before we get back Struve will
explain that you were called to see old Ramorez, a half-breed over
yonder toward Las Estrellas. That is, provided we get back too late
for it to appear likely that you are just resting in your room or
getting things shipshape in your office. That's why I am explaining
about Brocky."

"Since you represent the law in San Juan, Mr. Norton," she told him,
"since, further, Mr. Engle indorses all that you are doing, I be