ite this time."

"Providence!" Casey suggested.

Farwell's comment consisted of but one word, which, unless by contrast,
is not usually associated with providential happenings.

"Call it that if you like," he growled. "We'll get the men responsible
for it one of these days."

"You made a beginning with young McCrae," Casey reminded him.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you know that Glass tried to arrest him?"

"What?" cried Farwell.

His surprise was too genuine to be feigned. Thereupon Casey told him
what had occurred in the last few hours both at Talapus and Chakchak.

Farwell listened, biting his lips and frowning. And his first words
were an inquiry as to Sheila.

"Miss McCrae rode through that storm last night!" he exclaimed. "Good
Lord! Is she badly hurt?"

"Only shaken up, I think."

"Thank God for that," said Farwell, with evident sincerity. He
hesitated for a moment. "See here, Dunne, do you mind if I ask you an
impertinent question?"

"Fire away."

"Are you going to marry her?"

"Certainly not. What put that notion in your head?"

"It got there. You were pretty thick. And if she rode there in that
storm--unless she thought a lot of you----"

"I'm mighty proud of it. We're good friends--like brother and sister.
No more. She has the best brand of clean-strain pluck of any girl I
know."

"So she has," Farwell agreed. "She's a girl in a million. She's----" He
stopped, reddening.

"By George, Farwell," said Casey, "is it that way with you?"

"She doesn't care a tinker's dam for me," said Farwell bluntly. "That's
not saying what I think of her. I'm no ladies' man--don't pretend to
be. Let that go. I suppose I'll be blamed for young McCrae's arrest.
Well, I didn't know a thing about it. I've tried to give the family a
good deal--better than the rest of you, anyway. I don't like the boy,
and he doesn't like me. Pulled a gun on me once--well, never mind that.
Here, you've been straight with me, and I'll tell you: When the dam was
blown up we found the track of a patched moccasin in soft earth. Keeler
took an impression of it, or made a cast or something--I don't know
just what, but I do know that he photographed it. Since then I've
noticed young McCrae's foot, and I believe he made the track, though it
didn't strike me at the time. That was about the only clew we found.
Mind you, Dunne, I believe you were in it yourself, but I haven't a
thing to go on. If Glass has found a patched mocc