"By God, Brent," he whispered hoarsely, catching the other's arm in a grip that almost broke it, "what if she suspects us too--and has already set out to give us the slip? She hasn't a chance to get through before these outlaws intercept her. She'd have to stop--somewhere this side the gap--and go on in the morning." "Come on," snorted Brent, "we've got to go to the livery stable and see if she's hired a mule." "If she's seeking to give us the slip, she's probably changed that plan too--and set out on foot. It's a safe bet, though, that she didn't go without her precious money. Let's try the bank." They went, Brent needing to strike a sort of dog-trot to hold the long striding pace of the other. The bank was closed for the day. CHAPTER VIII "Well, what next?" inquired Brent blankly. "We might manage to seize and make a hostage of Lute Brown--and even the telegraph operator," began Halloway, somewhat haltingly. "But their disappearance would prove a sort of warning and they may not be the leading spirits. Did you gather from that telegram where they mean to hold her up?" "No--nor even to whom the message went. He'd begun sending when I got in." "Of course we couldn't prove that the operator understood the portent of the message but I know the fellow--his name is Wicks, and I think he's a bad egg." "Where does the bank cashier live?" inquired Brent. "Three miles out along Deephole Branch--and he has no telephone," growled the Titan. Suddenly through the baffled perplexity of his eyes broke the light of dawning idea, and he spoke with a greater certitude. "If these high-binders have used the wire once they may do it again," he exclaimed. "At all events that's the point to watch at present." "I suppose you mean I must loaf around there and eavesdrop--for anything that may come over." Brent's tone was unenthusiastic. "It's logical enough too--but if the girl's started out alone, time is precious." Halloway had straightened out of his doleful uncertainty. Plans were swiftly taking shape in his mind. "No. You've been there once. If you went back it's just possible that into the fellow's dull mind might steal a ghost of suspicion. I'm ready to take my turn now, though I hate the damned inactivity. I am a presumed illiterate. I struggle over the printed page--and with me loafing in his office he would chat away over his wire undisturbed." "And what shall I be doing?" "There'll be enough to keep you busy, I should say. Get in touch with any of the bank employes you can locate. Try to learn whether or not Alexander has actually started. Have Lute watched and see with whom he talks. Get together a dozen men we can trust at a pinch. Have them ready, if necessary, to take the saddle on a moment's notice. It may come down to a race over the trail." Brent's face fell. "With my limited acquaintance," he objected, "how in God's name am I to pick such men?"