"Come with me," he said. Once they were in his office he carefully closed and locked the door, drawing the window shades. Literally he rubbed his hands one over the other as he bade Naharo take a chair. Then the pair of them rolled and lighted cigarettes. "Perhaps I should say no more, Señor Martinez." "It will go no farther. And if the engineer and Ed Sorenson had a fight, then it must have been for that reason the latter's father spoke as he did to-night. You heard him." "Yes. And I did not understand why. It was not because of what happened at Bowenville, unquestionably not, for it had to do with another girl----" "Ha, a girl! And the engineer mixed in it?" "Listen. As I say, he would not have told his father, because he keeps such things quiet; it is four years since he last had to pay money to settle a matter. Some think he now behaves, but it is not true. But he is more careful. So his father did not know about this." "Tell it all, Naharo." The other inhaled a puff of smoke and half-closed his eyes. Though nearly white, he retained the Mexican's high cheek bones, and languor, and unforgiving nature. "I was in Bowenville, freighting up flour to the store of Smith's. I had loaded by evening, to make an early start next day. I had gone into the restaurant for supper, taking a seat far down at the end of the counter near the kitchen. I was tired and thinking only of my food. As I ate, there was a crash in one of the stalls and I looked about. There was a fight, of course. But it ended at once. Then I observed Ed Sorenson come out presently, jerking his collar and tie straight. He was mad. He had been whipped, too. For he yet looked as if he wanted to kill the other man in there, but he went away. Soon the other man came out and with him was a young white girl, whom I did not know. The man was this engineer and he carried an old piece of baggage, not such as he would carry but as the girl might, for she looked like a ranch girl who was poor. The girl was scared. The man was calm as a priest. That scoundrel Ed Sorenson had been beaten. Aha, so; it was clear. The engineer had put a spoke in the fellow's wheel. Then I walked to the door and saw the two get into a car and start on the trail this way. After that, I resumed my supper. You perceive, the man had taken the girl away from the wolf." Martinez' restless eyes wandered about the room as he digested this account. "Did you see the dead man?" he inquired, casually. "Yes, señor." Their looks met, held for an instant, dropped. Each read the thought of the other: the motive for the attack on the engineer was clear. But some convictions are better not expressed. "I should have liked to see Señor Weir do the shooting," Naharo stated. "Dios, such shooting! Two shots, two hits. And in the dark!" Martinez' grinned. "It will not please--whoever hired the dead man. He was hired for the job, of course." "Unquestionably, señor," was the reply. CHAPTER VIII THE GATHERING STORM