Dingwell looked at him steadily out of narrowed eyes.  “I don’t get you, Hal.  What has he got to do with it?”

“Thought maybe you could tell me that.  He’s in the park now.”

“In the park?”

“Yes—­and Jess Tighe knows it.”

“What’s he doing here?”

But even as he asked the other man, Dingwell guessed the answer.  Not an hour before he had caught a glimpse of a white, strained face at the window.  He knew now whose face it was.

“He’s spying on us and sleuthing for evidence to send us to the pen.  Think he’d be a good risk for an insurance company?”

Dave thought fast.  “I don’t reckon you’re right.  I put the kid through law school.  My friends have likely sent him up here to look for me.”

Rutherford scoffed.  “Nothing to that.  How could they know you are here?  We didn’t advertise it.”

“No-o, but—­” Dingwell surrendered the point reluctantly.  He flashed a question at Rutherford.  “Tighe will murder him.  That’s sure.  You going to let him?”

“Not if I can help it.  I’m going to send young Beaudry out of the park.”

“Fine.  Don’t lose any time about it, Hal.”

The Huerfano Park rancher made one more attempt to shake his prisoner.  His dark eyes looked straight into those of Dingwell.

“Old-timer, what about you?  I ain’t enjoying this any more than you are.  But it’s clear out of my hands.”

“Then why worry?” asked Dingwell, a little grin on his drawn face.

“Hell!  What’s the use of asking that?  I’m no Injun devil,” barked Rutherford irritably.

“Turn me loose and I’ll forget all I’ve seen.  I won’t give you the loot, but I’ll not be a witness against you.”

The Huerfano Park ranchman shook his head.  “No, we want that gold, Dave.  You butted into our game and we won’t stand for that.”

“I reckon we can’t make a deal, Hal.”

The haggard eyes of the starving man were hard as tungsten-washed steel.  They did not yield a jot.

A troubled frown dragged together the shaggy eyebrows of Rutherford as he snapped out his ultimatum.

“I like you, Dave.  Always have.  But you’re in one hell of a hole.  Don’t feed yourself any fairy tales.  Your number is chalked up, my friend.  Unless you come through with what we want, you’ll never leave here alive.  I can’t save you.  There’s only one man can—­and that is your friend David Dingwell.”

The other man did not bat an eyelid.  “Trying to pass the buck, Hal?  You can’t get away with it—­not for a minute.”  A gay little smile of derision touched his face.  “I’m in your hands completely.  I’ll not tell you a damn thing.  What are you going to do about it?  No, don’t tell me that Meldrum and Tighe will do what has to be done.  You’re the high mogul here.  If they kill me, Hal Rutherford will be my murderer.  Don’t forget that for a second.”