"That," said the sheriff, reluctantly, "seems to dispose of my Indian theory. They wouldn't have offered any such reward if they hadn't been pretty sure they had the right man. But it's equally sure that they never caught him or we'd have some record of it. On my second theory then, he's either dead, or else he'd have come back to locate that mine, or else he's been taken up for some other crime and has been serving time somewhere." Wilding took the faded, yellow handbill with its crude printing. "It looks that way," he said. "Evidently they couldn't get a photograph of him, and the description seems to be vague except as to his weapons and accouterments." "That's the way with them old-timers. They didn't pay so much attention to a man's looks as to his saddle and horse and gun. But if it'll do you any good take it along. It's outlawed as far as the reward's concerned, so I don't reckon I'll go hunting this fellow. The county wouldn't pay me, and old Brandon's been dead a year or more." The lawyer had to be satisfied with this, and, indeed, it seemed to settle the matter fairly conclusively. His business having been completed, he got out his automobile and once more headed back for Sulphur Falls. That evening he drew up at Wallace's ranch and there found Solange about to start into the mountains. He stayed the night, and delivered to her the handbill after telling her what he had done regarding the divorce and the search for the murderer. Solange listened to the first part of it with slight interest. Her desire to be free of De Launay had lost its force lately and she found herself somewhat indifferent. As Wilding formally laid down the procedure she would have to go through she even found herself vaguely regretting that she had moved so promptly in that matter. Somehow, in this land of strangers, kind and sympathetic as they had been, she felt that her search was hopeless without some more intimate help. The tall soldier, broken and desperate as he seemed to be, was closer to her than any one else and she felt that, if she should lose him, her plight would be forlorn. As she had last seen him standing in his cell, making his quiet promise of service to her, he appeared to be a rock on which she could lean. To her mind came back the stories she had heard of him, the wild and stormy tale of his rise from an outcast of the Légion des Etrangers to a high and honored place in the French army. He had done wonderful things and had overcome tremendous obstacles. Such a man could still do marvels, and it was marvels that one must do to help her in her search.