“Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed.  It is Horrocks’s wish.  He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly.  The result of his plan largely depends upon silence.  Retief seems to have sources of information everywhere.  Walls have ears, man.  Now, I shall be glad if you will leave me.  I—­I must get cleaned up.”

John’s anger died within him.  He saw that Lablache was upset.  He looked absolutely ill.  The old man’s good nature would not allow him to press this companion of his ranching life further.  There was nothing left for him to do but leave.

As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.

“I’ll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more.  Perhaps it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across the keg, and—­he’s going to cross it.  Good-by.  So long, Doc.”

“Very well, I shall be up at the ranch.  Come along, Bill.  Jacky, I expect, is waiting breakfast for us.”

Lablache heard the old man’s remark as the latter passed out, and a bitter feeling of resentment rose within him.  He felt that everything was against him.  His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long desponding.  He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly.  It had only wanted a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic hopelessness into which the terrible night’s doings had cast him.

The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew attention to the money-lender’s words.

“Going to cross the keg, eh?  Well, if he’s really discovered the path it’s certainly the best thing to do.  He’s a sharp man is Horrocks.”

“He’s a fool!”

Bill’s words were so emphatic that both men stared at him.  If they were startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set expression of his face.  Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the insouciant Bill so roused out of himself.

“Why—­how?”

“How?  I tell you, man, that no one knows that path except—­except—­Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly.  I tell you what it is, the man should be stopped.  It’s absolute suicide—­nothing more nor less.”

Something in the emphasis of “Lord” Bill’s words kept the others silent until the doctor left them at his home.  Then as the two men hurried out across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to the events of the previous evening.

At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man’s return, on the veranda.  She was surprised when she saw who was with him.  Her surprise was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial welcome.

“Come right in, Bill.  Gee, but you look fit—­and slick.”

The two young people smiled into each other’s faces, and no onlooker, not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the understanding which passed in that look.  Jacky was radiant.  Her sweet, dark face was slightly flushed.  There were no tell-tale rings about her dark eyes.  For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed the full measure of a night’s rest.  Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.