Stickler started to get up, but Oscar went over to him, and the manager of the Yellow Warrior sat down again. “Yust stay like you vere,” said Oscar. Another man was coming down the canyon. It was Frijole. He broke into the open, gun in hand, and stood there, staring at them. “Velcome de party, Freeholey,” grinned Oscar. “Yeah,” said Frijole, and came on slowly, staring at the professor and Bob Stickler. “Slim’s got the others,” said Frijole. “They’re roped. Where in hell did these two come from?” “Mr. Stickler came up the canyon,” said Judge, “and I hit him with a rock. Mr. Fossil came down the canyon, and Henry tackled him around the knees.” “Nice work!” grunted Frijole. “We found ’em, startin’ up the trail, Henry. They’ve got four pack-horses, loaded with--do you want to tell ’em, Professor?” Professor Fossil didn’t. Henry said, “Loaded with jewelry ore from the Yellow Warrior, Frijole?” “You knowed, Henry?” “No--I merely guessed. What’d your version, Stickler?” “I am not talkin’,” said Stickler sullenly. “Pete Gonyer was the leader of the gang,” said Frijole. “That dad-blamed Jud Bailey confessed. He thinks he’s goin’ to die from a bullet in the arm. Where-at is yore horses, Henry?” “About a mile from the other end of the canyon. You know where it makes a sharp right-hand turn? You do? Well, the horses are on the left-hand side, in a little thicket. But how----?” “We’ll get ’em from the other end--later. Let’s drift.” Both Stickler and the professor were able to walk. Less than a quarter of a mile up the canyon they found the others. They unpacked the horses and tied Pete Gonyer to a saddle. He was in bad shape, as were the others, but they were able to get back to the grades. They had the four pack-horses, and seven saddle-horses. The trail was bad, but they got up to the main road without mishap, just as the valley-bound stage came into view. The driver pulled up beside them and looked with amazement at the cavalcade. Out from inside the stage came Tom Akers and two others of the Board of Commissioners, staring, mumbling. Akers said: “What happened to Pete Gonyer? Conroy, what does this mean?” “It means,” replied Henry wearily, “that we have busted up the high-graders--and Mr. Gonyer, whom you were going to appoint as sheriff in my stead, was the leader. Professor Fossil was here, merely to be able to ship samples back to his home--samples of Yellow Warrior gold. Mr. Stickler handled things for them at the mine. You see--” “My God!” gasped Akers. “It can’t be true!” “It looks true to me,” said one of the Commissioners dryly. “Congratulations, Sheriff Conroy.” “I don’t understand,” complained Akers. “Pete Gonyer isn’t that sort of man. Why, I’d bet my soul--” “If you do not mind, gentlemen,” interrupted Henry, “you will ride horseback the rest of the way, and we will use the stage as an ambulance. Later we will recover the Yellow Warrior gold.”