Grandon was unable to go back to his bed and leave the two bodies alone; so he wrapped himself in a robe and sat down to smoke and think of a plan. Henderson came back and sat down with him. The talk naturally turned to Kingsburg and Magee. "Magee has made his boasts that the Mounted have never taken a man out of Kingsburg," said Henderson. "I think that McKay had made an arrest when he was shot." Grandon nodded thoughtfully. "And I suppose that will happen to any officer who does likewise, Henderson." "Until Magee and his gang are either run out of the country, or are buried, sir." "But we cannot do anything without direct evidence, Henderson." "That is our loss and their protection, sir. I think Conley was partly right. He said there was only one way to wipe out that gang, and that was to go up there, accuse them of being a lot of crooks and then shoot it out with them." Grandon smiled and shook his head. "Impossible, Henderson." "Yes, sir, and Magee knows it. He must have a complete spy system, because he knows our every move in advance. I feel sure that this post is carefully watched all the time. McKay felt the same about it, sir; and Conley, too." "I should not be surprised to know that Conley has joined Magee." Henderson grinned. "If he ever does--look out, Magee! I know how you feel about Conley's actions, sir; but I believe his story. Magee was afraid of Conley, I think. Conley was the only one of us that might forget his sworn duty. He was a cowpuncher, not an officer. And as far as Marie Beaudet was concerned--" Henderson hesitated and shook his head, "Conley would never harm a woman, sir. Why he is head-over-heels in love with Norah Clarey." Grandon pursued his lips and frowned slightly. "I'm afraid that Conley can never prove his innocence, Henderson. Anyway, it is a breach of the rules for an officer to take a drink of liquor." The talk drifted to other things, as they waited for daylight, half-dozing in their chairs. The rain pattered steadily on the shake-covered roof and dripped hollowly off the eaves. It was about five o'clock when footsteps grated across the porch, and into the room came Louie Beaudet. His face was white above his great beard, and he half-staggered in his stride. In one hand he carried a heavy Colt revolver. It flashed through the minds of both men that Louie had lost his reason. He was growling deeply in his throat, and waving the gun wildly. "Whose gun--dat?" he roared huskily. "Hold it still, Beaudet!" snapped Grandon. "Hol' still?" bellowed Louie. "Ba garr, I'm can't hol' her still! Here--you tak'!" He shoved the gun into Henderson's hands and whirled on Grandon. "I'm be robbed! Somebody she's br'ak into my safe and tak' h'all de money las' night!" Louie was shaking with nervousness and wrath and almost pulled Grandon's desk from its moorings. "What about the gun, Beaudet?" asked Grandon. "De gonn? Ba gar, I'm find her on de floor my safe!"