The marshal listened quietly to the narrative, the quick action of his jaws alone evidencing his interest, although he occasionally interposed a question.  Except for Westcott’s voice there was no sound, beyond the lapping of water against the rock, and no figures of men became visible along either bank.  The party above had crossed the stream, and disappeared up a ravine, and nothing remained to indicate that these two were fugitives, hiding for their lives, and facing a desperate expedient in an effort to escape their pursuers.  As the speaker finally concluded the silence was almost oppressive.

“How do yer suppose Bill Lacy got into the affair?” asked Brennan, at last thoughtfully.  “I don’t put no sorter deviltry beyond him, yer understand, but I don’t quite see how he ever come to get mixed up in this yere New York mess.  Seems like he had enough hell brewing here at home.”

“I’m just as much in the dark as you are, as to that,” admitted Westcott doubtfully.  “I am convinced, however, that Cavendish is still alive, and that another body strangely resembling his was found in the New York apartments.  According to Enright this was not part of their scheme, but merely an accident of which they took advantage.  How true this is will never be known unless we discover Cavendish, and learn his story.  Now, if he is alive, where has he been concealed, and for what purpose?  Another thing begins to loom up.  The mere hiding of the man was all right so long as the conspirators were not suspected.  But now when they are aware that they are being followed, what is likely to happen?  Will they become desperate enough to kill their victim, hoping thus to destroy absolutely the evidence of their crime?  Will their vengeance also include Miss Donovan?”

“Not unless they can get you out of the way first,” decided the marshal grimly.  “That is Lacy’s most important job—­you are more dangerous to them now than the girl.  That meeting to-day was prearranged, and Beaton was expected to land you.  That was why he hid behind the curtain, but something caused him to make a false move; they never expected you to put up that sort o’ fight, Jim, for nobody knew yer in this camp fer a fightin’ man.  But what’s yer theory ’bout Cavendish?  Let’s leave the dead man in New York go, an’ get down ter cases.”

“I figure it out like this, Dan.  I believe Fred got my telegram, and decided to come out here at once without telling anybody what his plans were.  All he did was to make a will, so as to dispose of his property in case anything happened.  His employing Enright for that job unfortunately put the whole thing in the hands of this crowd.  They were ready to act, and they acted.  Beaton must have taken the same train, and the two men got friendly; probably they never knew each other in New York, but, being from the same place, it was easy enough to strike up an acquaintance.  What occurred on board is all guesswork, but a sudden blow at night, on an observation platform, at some desert station, is not impossible; or it might be sickness, and the two men left behind to seek a physician.  Here was where Lacy must have come in.  He goes East occasionally, doesn’t he?”