“O he only stayed for the first dance!  I guess he and Inez had a row.”

Douglas scowled thoughtfully and wandered over to the phonograph, which Peter was manipulating.

“Where’s Charleton, Peter?”

“He went out after a stray stallion he thinks has wandered up on Lost Chief.”

Douglas gave Peter a startled glance.  “Jimmy Day just said he’d gone into Mountain City.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders.  “All I know is what Charleton told me last Monday.”  He slid a new record into the machine.

“Wait a moment!” Douglas put his hand on the starting-lever.  “Isn’t that the telephone ringing downstairs?”

Peter listened; then nodded.

“I’ll answer it!” exclaimed Douglas.

He dashed downstairs and jerked the receiver off the hook.  “I want Doug!  I gotta depone to Doug,” came a breathless old voice over the wire.

“Yes, Johnny, here I am!  Where are you?”

“At Mary’s.  They got the preacher, Doug!”

“Who?  Be cool now, Johnny, and help me.  Who did it?”

“Two men.  They had things over their faces and they were loco and they never—­never—­” Johnny’s voice trailed into an incoherent muttering.

Douglas jammed up the receiver and leaped back up the stairs.  He spoke hurriedly to Peter.  “They’ve got the preacher.  I can’t get sense out of Johnny.  You take care of Jude.”

He jerked on his mackinaw and darted for the door.  Peter followed him into the cold starlight.

“Wait a moment, Doug.  You’d better let me give a general alarm.”

“Maybe they’re all in on it!” Douglas paused with his hand on the pommel of his saddle.  Then he gave a hoarse cry, pointing as he did so at Dead Line Peak.  “Peter!  There’s a fire up there!”

He leaped into the saddle and drove the spurs home.  The Moose broke into a gallop.  A moment later there were shouts on the trail behind him.

“Keep going, old trapper!  The birthday party is with you!” roared Jimmy Day.

Douglas did not reply.  He saw the flames leap higher as he covered the miles.  He felt rage mounting swiftly within him, rage that was akin to what he had felt over the shooting of old Prince, but a thousand times more poignant.  But he handled the old Moose coolly.  Up the ever-rising trail, between drifted fences, up and up, with the Moose groaning for breath, until the quivering aspens showed clear and black against the leaping flames.

He threw himself from his horse, conscious now of a confusion of voices behind him, of dogs barking, horses groaning and squealing, and coyotes shrieking excitedly from the blue spruce thicket behind the corral.  The cabin and the chapel were in full flame.  Old Johnny limped up to Douglas.  Douglas put a gentle hand on the quivering old shoulder.

“Johnny, when did they come?”

“Right soon.”

“You mean after I had gone.”