Hugh looked down at the face of the man who had hated him so bitterly. His face muscles twitched. He was greatly touched. “He died in my place—to save me,” he said gently. “No. I didn’t tell him what I wanted him for—only that I wanted him right away. And he came—and——” She broke down utterly. Innocently she had been the cause of the death of a man who loved her. Without thought she had lured him into the ambush his own brother had prepared for his enemy. The arms that went round her were those of Old Dog Tray and not those of her lover. Hugh comforted her as best he could. “You’re not to blame—not in the least. The men who contrived my murder are guilty of his death. You called on him for help. That’s all. He had lots of sand. Even if he had known what would happen to him he would have come to you. That’s the way game men are. They go through. If he were here and could speak to you he wouldn’t blame you—not a bit of it. He’d say it was just the luck of the day.” “Yes, but—but——” His voice went on, cheerful, even, matter of fact. The very sound of it banished despair. Her sobs diminished. He led her to his horse. “What—what’ll we do with—him?” she asked. “I’ll arrange that when I get to town,” he told her. Hugh made a foot rest of his hand and Vicky climbed to the saddle. He walked along the path beside her. Once his hand went up comfortingly to find and press hers in the darkness. She whispered, in a small voice she could not make quite steady, “You’re so good to me.” He did not answer. What could he say, except that if it would help her he would cheerfully let red Indians torture him? And that somehow did not seem an appropriate reply. CHAPTER XLIV UNDER THE STARS Robert Dodson, appalled at the horrible thing he had done, fled with his accomplice during the night. They reached Reno, were hidden on the outskirts of the town by a friend, and crossed the Sierras furtively to California. Here the trail was lost. Nobody was very anxious to find it, for Dodson carried with him his own punishment. Years later a man from Virginia City met in a San Francisco dive a drunken wreck who reminded him of the fugitive. He called him by name, but the man shrank from him, slid to the door, and disappeared into the night. This was the last time Dodson was ever recognized. A rumour floated to Nevada that he died of yellow fever soon after this in Mexico, but no proof of this was ever given out. The Dodson fortune collapsed with the death of Ralph. The firm had over-extended its operations and a tight money market closed it out. If Ralph had lived he might have been able to weather the storm, but without his guiding hand the Dodson properties became liabilities instead of assets. A sheriff’s sale of the mines paid creditors almost in full.