again.  Now, how can it be done?  Some one of us will have to go down to San Juan, before those fellows get over here in force, swear out warrants against Farnham and his partners, and have this whole affair probed to the bottom.  We ’ve got them, if we can only get the ear of the District Attorney, and shift this fight into the courts.  The trouble is, Farnham was smart enough to get there ahead of us, and he ’ll win out if we don’t move quick and block him.  I can’t go myself, for I ’m a prisoner, and must remain with the sheriff, or will be considered a fugitive.  The only question is, Can any one hope to get through?”

Hicks permitted his gaze to stray out across the dim valley below, then up toward the ragged summit of the overhanging crest of rocks.  Through the smoke of his pipe he deliberately surveyed Stutter Brown, perched motionless at the edge of his watchtower, a Winchester silhouetted black against the stone.

“Not down thet way, anyhow,” he announced, finally, pointing with his pipe-stem.  “I reckon a mosquiter could n’t git through along thet trail ternight.  Ever hear tell o’ Daggett Station?”

Winston rubbed his chin, endeavoring to recall the name.

“I ’m not sure.  Is it the water-tank and section-house, next stop below Bolton Junction, on the main line?”

“You ’ve called the tarn.  Wal, it’s over thar,” pointing apparently into the heart of the mountain, “straight south, twenty miles as ther crow flies from the foot o’ this rise, across as barren a sand waste as ever broke a man’s heart—­nary drop o’ water from start ter finish, an’ hot—­oh, hell!” He paused, thinking.  “But I hardly reckon them people would ever think ‘bout guardin’ thet way out, an’ a good rider could make it easy afore daylight, an’ catch the train East.”

“How do you get down?”

“Through a long, twistin’ ravine; it’s a mean place fer travellin’, an’ you have ter lead the hoss till yer strike the sand.”

“Ever cross there yourself?”

“Wal, no,” stroking his beard; “but Stutter come back thet way onct, from a hunt or something.  He never said nothin’ when he struck in, but yer could ‘a’ scraped alkali off him with a hoe, an’ he drunk a whole bucket o’ water without takin’ breath.  So I reckon it wa’n’t no pleasure jaunt.”

“Then it’s got to be Stutter,” decided Winston, rising to his feet, “for we must get word to San Juan.  I ’m going inside to see how Hayes is feeling.”

“I reckon thet’s the ticket,” agreed Hicks, gloomily, “but I ’m blamed if I like losin’ him.  He ‘s a fightin’ man, thet Stutter, after he onct gits his blood stirred up, an’ I ‘m sorter expectin’ a lively time yere when it gits dark.  It ’ll be Farnham’s last chance ter put us out o’ the way, an’ he ’s likely ter take it.  I ’ll bet Stutter won’t go, leastwise without the gal; he ‘s natural bull-headed, besides bein’ in love.  Thet makes an ornery combination.”