“If he has told Galloway. . . .”

“But I don’t believe he has.  Struve says that just as Norton started things he saw a man run in from the cottonwoods and duck into the house.  It was Struve’s job to see that nobody got out and he let him go by.  If it wasn’t Moraga, who was it?  And, when I grabbed him just now, the first thing he said was:  ‘I want to talk with Galloway.’”

“You didn’t let him?” demanded Engle quickly.

“No.  A couple of the boys have walked him off down the road.  I’ve got Galloway and Antone in the jail.  Now, what I want is some advice.  What am I going to do with this job until Rod Norton comes to and takes a hand . . . if he ever does,” he muttered heavily.

“It’s clear that you’ve got to keep Moraga away from Galloway; if they haven’t already had a chance to talk it’s a pure Godsend and it’s up to you that they don’t get that chance.”

“Yes,”, admitted Cutter slowly.  “But I’m the first man to admit that I’m all muggled up.  What did Moraga have his shoes off for?  If he shot out the light, why did he do it?  And how’d he get blood on his gun?”

Engle shook his head.

“All questions for the district attorney later, Tom,” he answered.  “But, if you want any advice from me, here it is:  Get Moraga out of the way on the jump.  He is supposed to be in jail in the next county; he must have broken out.  Send a man to Las Palmas to telephone to Sheriff Roberts; send Moraga along with him.  And, whatever you do, keep Jim Galloway where you’ve got him.  I think we’ve got our case against him to-night.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking.  I guess that’s what Norton would do, eh?”

“Sure of it,” said Engle promptly.  “Find out, if you can, whether Moraga got a chance to talk with Galloway.  I’m going back to the house to let my wife and Florrie know what has happened.”

Engle hurried to his home, told what had happened, and, leaving his wife anxious, his daughter weeping hysterically, returned to the hotel.

“I’ve done all that any one could do for him,” said Patten, as though defending himself because of Norton’s continued unconsciousness.  “He’s in pretty bad shape, Engle.  Oh, I guess I can pull him through, but at that it’s going to be a close squeak.  Lucky I was right on hand, though.”  And he grew technical, spoke of blood pressures taken, of traumatism superinducing prolonged coma, of this and that which made no impression on the banker.

“You mentioned two wounds,” Engle reminded him.  “The one made by the bullet and another. . . .”

“By his head striking as he fell?  Yes; that would have completed the work of the first shock in knocking him unconscious.  But it is a negligible affair now; he wouldn’t know anything about it in the morning if it weren’t for the lump that’ll be there.  And since the other injury, the long gouging cut made by the bullet, has just plowed along the outer surface of the skull, I think that I can promise you he’ll be all right pretty soon now.  We ought to have some ice, but I’ve made cold compresses do.”