“My daughter,” said Teagler, who had been following the fellow’s roaming glance. “Oh,” remarked the stranger. “Good-looking kid. Where’s she now?” “School,” replied the prospector, “back East.” “Fine.” The guest’s gaze swerved to Teagler’s preparation for lunch. He licked dry lips. “Set in,” invited Teagler. Ravenously, the man partook of the food. After several mouthfuls of the meat he looked up inquiringly. “Venison?” he asked. Teagler nodded. “Got him just back of the rimrock down Cincher Creek.” He looked at the battered alarm-clock on a shelf. The hands met at twelve o’clock. “Excuse me,” said Teagler. “Music with our meals.” He moved over to the wall, to the horn the stranger had observed and reached for a switch. “Radio?” asked the stranger. “I noticed the fixings.” For answer, Teagler turned on the switch. A moment’s manipulation and a raucous voice was heard closing an announcement. Then came a jazzy dance tune. “Slick,” said the stranger, “way up here back of nowhere.” Teagler grinned. He was proud of his radiophone. The visitor washed down his venison with large gulps of coffee. The jazz tune ended. The raucous voice began again. It was somewhat clearer by this time. “I am asked,” it said, “to make this announcement by the chief of police of Denver, Colorado. A reward of two thousand dollars--two thousand dollars--is offered for the capture of one “Snapper” Kirk, wanted for the theft of a diamond necklace the property of Ellsworth Coster, of Denver. “Kirk is described as about five feet eight inches in height. He has dark complexion and dark eyes, stocky in build. He was dressed when last seen in a dark brown suit and brown felt hat. Kirk can be easily recognized by a deep, white scar on his right cheek, starting near the temple and ranging downward for more than two inches. Send any information to chief of police, Denver.” Teagler moved the platter of venison closer to his unexpected guest. “Eat plenty,” he bade. Teagler attempted a casual conversation. His guest eyed him, but answered only in monosyllables. The radio program ended, with the giving of live stock quotations. “Interested in mines?” asked the prospector. “Gold?” demanded the stranger. Teagler nodded. “Got something to show you,” he said, and arose. “I wouldn’t,” came the harsh voice of the other man. Slowly, Teagler turned back to face the stranger. He looked into the muzzle of a nickel-plated revolver. The weapon shook slightly in the diner’s hand, but the fellow’s eyes were coldly malignant. “What’s the matter?” inquired the prospector. “You know ---- well,” was the answer, followed by an outburst of cursing. “Don’t think you can fool me. I watched you when that ---- contraption was talking. Now, you sit down.” Teagler slowly obeyed. “I’ll see what you were after,” went on the stranger.