"Well, I never seen people so wrought up, and I'm free to admit now that if Jim McFann hadn't broke jail he'd have been lynched on the very day that he made his getaway. The only question is--do you think you can get him before the trial, and are you sure the Injun'll come in?" "I'm not sure of anything, of course," replied Lowell, "but I've staked everything on Fire Bear making good his word. If he doesn't, I'm ready to quit the country. McFann's a different proposition. He has been too clever for the police, but I have rather hesitated about having Plenty Buffalo risk the lives of his men, because I have had a feeling that McFann might be reached in a different way. I'm sure he's been getting supplies from the man who has been using him in bootlegging operations." "You mean Talpers?" "Yes. If McFann is mixed up in anything, from bootlegging to bigger crimes, he is only a tool. He can be a dangerous tool--that's admitted--but I'd like to gather in the fellow who does the planning." "By golly! I wish I had you working with me on this murder case," said Redmond, in a burst of confidence. "I'll admit I never had anything stump me the way this case has. I'm bringing up against a blank wall at every turn." "Haven't you found out anything new about Sargent?" "Not a thing worth while. He lived alone--had lots of money that he made by inventing mining machinery." "Any relatives?" "None that we can find out about." "Have you learned anything through his bank?" "He had plenty of money on deposit; that's all." "Did he have any lawyers?" "Not that we've heard from." "Does any one know why he came on this trip?" "No; but he was in the habit of making long jaunts alone through the West." "What sort of a home did he have?" "A big house in the suburbs. Lived there alone with two servants. They haven't been able to tell a thing about him that's worth a cuss." "Would anything about his home indicate what sort of a man he was?" "The detectives wrote something about his having a lot of Indian things--Navajo blankets and such." "Indians may have been his hobby. Perhaps he intended to visit this reservation." "If that was so, why should he drive through the agency at night and be killed going away from the reservation? No, he was going somewhere in a hurry or he wouldn't have traveled at night." "But automobile tourists sometimes travel that way." "Not in this part of the country. In the Southwest, perhaps, to avoid the heat of the day." "Well, what do you think about it all, Tom?" "That this feller was a pilgrim, going somewhere in a hurry. He was held up by some of your young bucks who were off the reservation and feeling a little too full of life for their own good. A touch of bootleg whiskey might have set them going. Mebbe that's where Jim McFann came in. They might have killed the man when he resisted. The staking-out was probably an afterthought--a piece of Injun or half-breed devilment."