“Answer now.  Hware’d you get your liquor?  Didn’t this fellow give it to you?”

“On my honor—­no, sarsh’nt, ’pon my ’on—­”

“Oh, to hell with your honor and you with it!  Hware’d you get it if it wasn’t from him?  Shure you’ve not been near Ceralvo’s?”

“No, sarsh’nt, no Ceralvo’s.  We met couple gen’l’men—­perfec’ gen’l’men, ranchers; they were going after the Indians.  They gave us jus’ o-one drink—­’piece.  Jus’ five minutes—­go.”

“How far away was this?  Hware were they?  Answer or, damn you, I’ll shake the truth out of you!” shouted Feeny, suiting action to word.  “Spake before you, too, are lying like that other hog.  Did you ever see the camp?  Did you ever get to the crossing at all?  Douse a dipper of water over him, you Latham, quick.  Wake up, I say, Mullan.  For the love of God, major, I believe they’re both drugged.  I believe it’s all a damned lie.  I believe it’s only a skame to get you to send out the rest of your escort, so they can tackle you alone.  Kick him, Murphy, kick him; throt him round; don’t let him get to sleep.  Answer me, you scoundrel!” he fairly yelled, for Mullan’s head was drooping on his breast and every lurch promised to land him on his face.  Twice his knees doubled up like a foot-rule and the stout little sergeant had to jerk him to his feet.

“Search ’em both.  See if they’ve a flask betune ’em, Latham.  Answer me, Mullan, did you see the burned camp?  Did you see the dead man?  Did—­Oh, murther! he’s gone!  There’s never a word to be got out of aither of them this night.  But don’t you believe that letther, major.  Don’t you trust a word of it; it’s false as hell.  It’s only a plant to rob ye of your escort first and your life and money later.  That’s it, men, douse them, kick them, murther them both if you like,—­the curs!—­and they’d drink when they knowed every man was needed.”  And adding force to his words, Feeny drove a furious kick at the luckless Mullan.

“Do you mean there is no truth in this?  Do you mean you think it all a fraud, a trick?” at last queried the major.  “Why, it seems incredible!”

“I say just what I mean, major.  It’s a plot to rob you.  I mean the gang has gathered for that very purpose.  I mean that every story told us about the Apaches west or south of here or between us and the Gila is a bloody lie.  The guard at the signal-station hadn’t seen or heard of them.  They laughed at me when I told them what they tried to make us believe at Ceralvo’s.  ’Twas there they wanted to have you stop, for there you’d have no chance at all.  Shure, do you suppose if the Apaches were out—­if this story was true—­they wouldn’t have heard it and investigated it by this time, and the beacon-fire would have been blazing at the Picacho?”

Then Murphy turned and ran around the corner of the corral to a point where he could see the dim outline of the range against the western sky.  The next moment his voice rose upon the night air, vibrant, thrilling,—­