Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at the lane. Cullison, standing on the porch at the head of the steps looked like a man who was passing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day of judgment untempered by mercy. His eyes bored like steel gimlets into those of his enemy. The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe. "I've just heard the news. I was down at Yesler's ranch when you 'phoned asking if they had seen anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you one question. When was she seen last?" "About ten o'clock this morning. Why?" "I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde, headed for Blue Cañon looked like." "Close enough to speak to her?" Sam asked. "Yes. We passed the time of day." "And then?" Luck cut back into the conversation with a voice like a file. "She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to the ranch. The last I saw of her she was going straight on." "And you haven't seen her since?" The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick. "God, man, you don't think I'm in this, do you?" "If you are you'd better blow your brains out before I learn it. And if you're trying to lead me on a false scent----" Luck stopped. Words failed him, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice. Fendrick spoke quietly. "I'm willing. In the meantime we'd better travel over toward Mesa Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak." Cullison's gaze had never left him. It observed, weighed, appraised. "Good enough. We'll start." He left Sweeney to answer the telephone while he was away. All of his other riders were already out combing the hills under supervision of Curly. Luck had waited with Sam only to get some definite information before starting. Now he had his lead. Fendrick was either telling the truth or he was lying with some sinister purpose in view. The cattleman meant to know which. Morning breaks early in Arizona. By the time they had come to the spot where the sheepman said he had met Kate gray streaks were already lightening the sky. The party moved forward slowly toward the cañon, spreading out so as to cover as much ground as possible. Before they reached its mouth the darkness had lifted enough to show the track of a horse in the sand. They pushed up the gulch as rapidly as they could. The ashes of a camp fire halted them a few minutes later. Scattered about lay the feathers and dismembered bones of some birds. Cass stooped and picked up some of the feathers. "Quails, I reckon. Miss Cullison had three tied to her saddle horn when I met her." "Why did she come up here to cook them?" Sam asked. Luck was already off his horse, quartering over the ground to read what it might tell him. "She wasn't alone. There was a man with her. See these tracks." It was Fendrick who made the next discovery. He had followed a draw for a short distance and climbed to a little mesa above. Presently he called to Cullison.