He turned towards her to speak, but refrained.  He could not tell her what he felt certain of.  She believed in her own blood and in her uncle’s friends—­and it was not for him to speak of McNamara.  The rules of the game sealed his lips.

She was thinking again, “If only you had not acted as you did.”  She longed to help him now in his trouble as he had helped her, but what could she do?  The law was such a confusing, intricate, perplexing thing.

“I spent last night at the Midas,” she told him, “and rode back early this morning.  That was a daring hold-up, wasn’t it?”

“What hold-up?”

“Why, haven’t you heard the news?”

“No” he answered, steadily.  “I just got up.”

“Your claim was robbed.  Three men overcame the watchman at midnight and cleaned the boxes.”

His simulation of excited astonishment was perfect and he rained a shower of questions upon her.  She noted with approval that he did not look her in the eye, however.  He was not an accomplished liar.  Now McNamara had a countenance of iron.  Unconsciously she made comparison, and the young man at her side did not lose thereby.

“Yes, I saw it all,” she concluded, after recounting the details.  “The negro wanted to bind me so that I couldn’t give the alarm, but his chivalry prevented.  He was a most gallant darky.”

“What did you do when they left?”

“Why, I kept my word and waited until they were out of sight, then I roused the camp, and set Mr. McNamara and his men right after them down the gulch.”

“Down the gulch!” spoke Glenister, off his guard.

“Yes, of course.  Did you think they went up-stream?” She was looking squarely at him now, and he dropped his eyes.  “No, the posse started in that direction, but I put them right.”  There was an odd light in her glance, and he felt the blood drumming in his ears.

She sent them down-stream!  So that was why there had been no pursuit!  Then she must suspect—­she must know everything!  Glenister was stunned.  Again his love for the girl surged tumultuously within him and demanded expression.  But Miss Chester, no longer feeling sure that she had the situation in hand, had already started to return to the hotel.  “I saw the men distinctly,” she told him, before they separated, “and I could identify them all.”

At his own house Glenister found Dextry removing the stains of the night’s adventure.

“Miss Chester recognized us last night,” he announced.

“How do you know?”

“She told me so just now, and, what’s more, she sent McNamara and his crowd down the creek instead of up.  That’s why we got away so easily.”

“Well, well—­ain’t she a brick?  She’s even with us now.  By-the-way, I wonder how much we cleaned up, anyhow—­let’s weigh it.”  Going to the bed, Dextry turned back the blankets, exposing four moose-skin sacks, wet and heavy, where he had thrown them.