“She didn’t take the coach at Indian Spring,” returned Brace, “because I saw it leave, and passed it on Buckskin ten minutes ago, coming up the hills.”

“She’s stopped over at Burnham’s,” said Wynn reflectively.  Then, in response to the significant silence of his guests, he added, in a tone of chagrin which his forced heartiness could not disguise, “Well, boys, it’s a disappointment all round; but we must take the lesson as it comes.  I’ll go over to the coach office and see if she’s sent any word.  Make yourselves at home until I return.”

When the door had closed behind him, Brace arose and took his hat as if to go.  With his hand on the lock, he turned to his rival, who, half hidden in the gathering darkness, still seemed unable to comprehend his ill-luck.

“If you’re waiting for that bald-headed fraud to come back with the truth about his daughter,” said Brace coolly, “you’d better send for your things and take up your lodgings here.”

“What do you mean?” said Dunn sternly.

“I mean that she’s not at the Burnhams’; I mean that he either does or does not know where she is, and that in either case he is not likely to give you information.  But I can.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

“Then, where is she?”

“In the Carquinez Woods, in the arms of the man you were just defending—­Low, the half-breed.”

The room had become so dark that from the road nothing could be distinguished.  Only the momentary sound of struggling feet was heard.

“Sit down,” said Brace’s voice, “and don’t be a fool.  You’re too weak, and it ain’t a fair fight.  Let go your hold.  I’m not lying—­I wish to God I was!”

There was silence, and Brace resumed, “We’ve been rivals, I know.  May be I thought my chance as good as yours.  If what I say ain’t truth, we’ll stand as we stood before; and if you’re on the shoot, I’m your man when you like, where you like, or on sight if you choose.  But I can’t bear to see another man played upon as I’ve been played upon—­given dead away as I’ve been.  It ain’t on the square.

“There,” he continued, after a pause, “that’s right, now steady.  Listen.  A week ago that girl went down just like this to Indian Spring.  It was given out, like this, that she went to the Burnhams’.  I don’t mind saying, Dunn, that I went down myself, all on the square, thinking I might get a show to talk to her, just as you might have done, you know, if you had my chance.  I didn’t come across her anywhere.  But two men that I met thought they recognized her in a disguise going into the woods.  Not suspecting anything, I went after her; saw her at a distance in the middle of the woods in another dress that I can swear to, and was just coming up to her when she vanished—­went like a squirrel up a tree, or down like a gopher in the ground, but vanished.”

“Is that all?” said Dunn’s voice.  “And just because you were a d—­d fool, or had taken a little too much whisky, you thought—­”