“I told you your head wasn’t working just right,” jeered Nueces.  “We want to give you a good start.  They’ll be after you again, and you’re in no fix to do any hard riding.  But one of us will go.  Breslin, you go.”

“Too late,” observed Anastacio quietly.  There is Miss Vorhis now, with her father.  They’re climbing to the Gap.  Go on, Foy.”

“They’ve got a led horse,” said Nueces as Stella and the Major came to the highest point of the Gap.  “Who’s that for?  Chris?  But they couldn’t know about Chris. And how did they get here so quick?  Don’t seem like they’ve had hardly time.”

Stella dismounted; she pressed on up the hill to meet her lover.  The first sunshafts struck into the Gap, lit up the narrow walls with red glory.

“Magic Casements!” thought Pringle.

“Watch Foy get over the ground!” said Anastacio.  “He’ll break his neck before he gets down.  I don’t blame him.  He’s nearly down.  Look the other way, boys!”

They looked the other way, and there were none to see that meeting.  Unless, perhaps, the gods looked down from high Olympus—­the poor immortals—­and turned away, disconsolate, to the cheerless fields of asphodel.

“But they’re not going away,” said Breslin after a suitable interval.  “They’re waiting; and the Major’s waving his hat at us.”

“I’ll go see what they want,” said Anastacio.

In a few minutes he was back, rather breathless and extremely agitated in appearance.

“Well?  Spill it!” said Nueces.  “Get your breath first.  What’s the trouble?”

“Applegate’s dead.  Joe Espalin, I arrest you for the murder of Richard Marr!  Applegate confessed!”

“He lied!  He lied!” screamed Espalin.  “I was with Ben till daylight, at the monte game; they all tell you.  The sheriff he try to make me keel heem—­he try to buy me to do eet—­he keel Dick Marr heemself!”

“That’s right!” spoke Creagan, suddenly white and haggard.  His voice was a cringing whine; his eyes groveled.  “Marr was at Lisner’s house.  We all went over there after the fight.  Lisner waked Marr up—­he’d been tryin’ to egg Marr on to kill Foy all day, but Marr was too drunk.  He was sobering up when we waked him.  Lisner tried to rib him up to go after Foy and waylay him—­told him he had been threatening Foy’s life while he was drunk, and that Foy’d kill him if he didn’t get Foy first.  Dick said he wouldn’t do it—­he’d go along to help arrest Foy, but that’s all he’d do.  The sheriff and Joe went out together for a powwow.  The sheriff came back alone, black as thunder—­him and Dick rode off together——­”

The sheriff sprang to his feet, his heavy face bloated and blotched with terror.

“He cursed me; he tried to pull his gun!” he wailed.  His eyes protruded, glaring; one hand clutched at his throat, the other spread out before him as he tottered, stumbling.  “Oh, my God!” he sobbed.