Both Hugh and Byers were exhausted. The night through which they had just come had been a terrible one. Their bodies from which the skin peeled in flakes at several points of contact with their clothes, were a torment to them. Eyebrows, eyelashes, and some of the front hair had crisped away. The faces of both of them were fire-red, and from sunken sockets blear-eyed old age gazed listlessly. They needed sleep certainly, medical attention possibly. The girl’s dark eyes softened as she looked at them. They had fought a good fight, just as a matter of course and all in the day’s work. She had been down a mine. Her imagination filled in the horrors of the fearful hours in that hell’s cauldron from which they had at last dragged the imprisoned miners. “Let me send for Doctor Rogers,” she said gently. “You feelin’ sick, Vicky?” Hugh asked with a flare of humour. “I mean, to look at you and Mr. Byers.” “We ain’t much to look at right now. I expect he’d rather see us some time when we’re not so dog tired. Find us more entertainin’.” “Then you’d better go upstairs and sleep. Mr. Budd says he’ll watch your prisoner till night.” “And what then?” asked Hugh. “We can’t just saddle up and hit the trail for Carson. Never in the world get there. By this time they’ve wired to Ralph Dodson. He’s on the job at the other end of the line.” “What makes you think so?” Vicky asked. “Because Bob Dodson hired Dutch to shoot Scot. He showed it when he lit out with him in the middle of the night. Dodson has got to stand by Dutch to keep him from telling all he knows. He’s sure sent a hurry-up call for help to brother Ralph. Their play is to prevent me from reaching Carson with Dutch a prisoner. Once there, with feeling in the town high against him, the killer would be liable to tell who was back of the shooting. He’d do it out of revenge because he had not been rescued.” “I can telegraph to Carson for help and have friends come and meet you.” “That would mean a pitched battle. Can’t have that.” “Oh, well, you go to bed and sleep,” Vicky said imperatively. “We can decide later about how you’re going to reach Carson.” Hugh nodded. “You’ll have me wakened if any word comes about Scot?” “Of course.” Within a few minutes both men, and Dutch, too, were sound asleep. It was late in the afternoon when Mrs. Budd knocked on Hugh’s door to awaken him. He found Vicky waiting for him in the sitting room. “You look better,” she said. “I feel a hundred years younger,” he answered. “Any news about Scot?” “No.” “I’ll leave to-night. Can’t stay away any longer.” “Yes. That would be best.” “Is the house watched?” “Yes.” “Can’t help it. I’ll go soon as I’ve eaten.” “I’m going, too,” she told him. “I ought to be with Mollie.” “You come to-morrow—not to-day. There may be trouble.” “No, there won’t be any trouble—and I’m going with you,” she answered. There was a queer little smile on her face, a smile of friendly mockery.