“Why didn’t he tell the truth—­expose Plant?  Surely no department would endorse that,” put in Amy, a trifle subdued in manner.

“That takes time,” Bob pointed out.  “There was no time.”

“So Welton came through,” said Thorne drily.  “What has that got to do with it?”

“Baker paid the money for him,” said Bob.

“Well, they’re both in the same boat,” remarked Thorne tranquilly.  “I don’t see that that gives him any hold on Welton.”

“He threatens to turn state’s evidence in the matter, and seems confident of immunity on that account.”

“He can’t mean it!” cried Amy.

“Sheer bluff,” said Thorne.

“I thought so, and went to see him.  Now I am sure not.  He means it; and he’ll do it when this case against the Modoc Company is pushed.”

“I thought you said Welton would testify?” observed Thorne.

“He will.  But naturally only if he is summoned.”

“Then what——­”

“Oh, I see.  Baker never thought he could keep Welton from telling the truth, but knew perfectly well he would not volunteer the evidence.  He used his hold over Welton to try to keep me from bringing forward this testimony.  Sort of relied on our intimacy and friendship.”

“But you will testify?”

“I think I see my duty that way,” said Bob in a troubled voice.

“Quite right,” said Thorne, dispassionately; “I’m sorry.”  He arose from the table.  “This is most important.  I don’t often issue positive prohibitions in my capacity of superior officer; but in this instance I must.  I am going to request you not to leave camp on any errand unless accompanied by Ranger Ware.”

Bob nodded a little impatiently.  California John paused before following his chief into the office.

“It’s good sense, boy,” said he, “and nobody gives a darn for your worthless skin, you know.  It’s just the information you got inside it.”

“Right,” laughed Bob, his brow clearing.  “I forgot.”

California John nodded at him, and disappeared into the office.

Bob turned to Amy with a laughing comment that died on his lips.  The girl was standing very straight on the other side of the table.  One little brown hand grasped and crushed the edge of her starched apron; her black brows were drawn in a straight line of indignation beneath which her splendid eyes flashed; her rounded bosom, half-defined by the loose, soft blue of her simple gown, rose and fell rapidly.

“And you’re going to do it?” she threw across at him.

Bob, bewildered, stared at her.

“You’re going to deliver over your friend to prison?” She moved swiftly around the table to stand close to him.  “Surely you can’t mean to do that!  You’ve worked with him, and lived with him—­and he’s a dear, jolly old man!”

“Hold on!” cried Bob, recovering from the first shock, and beginning to enjoy the situation.  “You don’t understand.  If I don’t give my testimony, think what the Service will lose in the Basin.”