Fendrick nodded. "You're wiser there. She wouldn't be safe, not if a certain man happened to hear what you've just told me." "I didn't say _she_, Cass." "No, I said it. Your witness is Mrs. Wylie." "Maybe, then, you can guess the criminal, too." "Maybe I could, but I'm not going to try." "Then we'll drop that subject. I'll ask you a question. Can you tell me where I can find a paroled convict named Blackwell?" Fendrick shook his head. "Don't know the gentleman. A friend of yours?" "One of yours. Better come through, Cass. I'm satisfied you weren't actually in this robbery, but there is such a thing as accessory after the fact. Now, I'm going to get that man. If you want to put yourself right, it's up to you to give me the information I want. Where is he?" "Haven't got him in _my_ pocket." The officer rose, not one whit less amiable. "I didn't expect you to tell me. That's all right. I'll find him. But in the meantime I'll have to lock you up till this thing is settled." From his inside coat pocket, Fendrick drew a sealed envelope, wrote the date across the front, and handed it to O'Connor. "Keep this, Bucky, and remember that I gave it to you. Put it in a safe place, but don't open the envelope till I give the word. Understand?" "I hear what you say, but I don't understand what you mean--what's back of it." "It isn't intended that you should yet. I'm protecting myself. That's all." "I guessed that much. Well, if you're ready, I'll arrange your lodgings for the night, Cass. I reckon I'll put you up at a hotel with one of the boys." "Just as you say." Fendrick rose, and the two men passed into the street. CHAPTER XIV A TOUCH OF THE THIRD DEGREE Cullison was not the man to acknowledge himself beaten so long as there was a stone unturned. In the matter of the Del Oro homestead claim he moved at once. All of the county commissioners were personal friends of his, and he went to them with a plan for a new road to run across the Del Oro at the point where the cañon walls opened to a valley. "What in Mexico is the good of a county road there, Luck? Can't run a wagon over them mountains and down to the river. Looks to me like it would be a road from nowhere to nowhere," Alec Flandrau protested, puzzled at his friend's request. "I done guessed it," Yesler announced with a grin. "Run a county road through, and Cass Fendrick can't fence the river off from Luck's cows. Luck ain't aiming to run any wagon over that road." The Map of Texas man got up and stamped with delight. "I get you. We'll learn Cass to take a joke, by gum. Luck sure gets a county road for his cows to amble over down to the water. Cass can have his darned old homestead now."