Mr. Charlie See came softly to Hillsboro jail through the velvet night. He did not come the front way; he came over the hill after a wearisome detour. He approached the building on the blind side, cautiously as any cat, and crouched to listen in the shadow of the wall. After a little he began a slow voyage of discovery. At the rear of the building a broad shaft of light swept out across the hill. This was the kitchen. See heard Gwinne's heavy tread, and the cheerful splutterings of beefsteak. Then he heard a dog within; a dog that scratched at the door with mutter and whine. "Down, Diogenes!" growled Gwinne; and raised his voice in a roaring chorus: "_And he sunk her in the lonesome lowland low-- And he sunk her in the lowland sea!_" Charlie retraced his steps to the corner and the friendly shadows. He crept down the long blank side of the jail, pausing from time to time to listen; hearing nothing. He turned the corner to the other end. A dim light showed from an unwindowed grating. The investigator stood on a slope and the window place was high. Reaching up at full stretch, he seized the bars with both hands, stepped his foot on an uneven stone of the foundation, and so pulled himself up to peer in--and found himself nose to nose with Johnny Dines. The prisoner regarded his visitor without surprise. "Good evening," he observed politely. "Good eve--Oh, hell! Say, I ought to bite your nose off--you and your good evening! Look here, fellow--are you loose in there?" "Oh, yes. But the outer door's locked." "Well, by gracious, you'd better be getting to thunder out of this! You haven't a chance. You're a gone goose. You ought to hear the talk I've heard round town. They're going to hang you by the neck!" "Well, why not--if I did that?" inquired Johnny, reasonably enough. They spoke in subdued undertones. "But I know damn well you didn't do it." The rescuer spoke with some irritation; he was still startled. Johnny shook his head thoughtfully. "The evidence was pretty strong--what I heard of it, anyhow." "I guess, by heck, I know a frame-up when I see it. Say, what the hell are you talking about? You wild ass of the desert! Think I got nothing to do but hang on here by my eyelashes and argue with you? One more break like that and down goes your meat house--infernal fool! Listen! There's a mining shaft right over here--windlass with a ratchet wheel and a pawl. I can hook that windlass rope on these bars and yank 'em out in a jiffy. If the bars are too stubborn I'll strain the rope tight as ever I can and then pour water on it. That'll fetch 'em; won't make much noise, either, I judge. Not now--your jailer man will be calling you to supper in a minute. Maybe we'd better wait till he goes to sleep--or will he lock you up? Fellow, what you want to do is go. You can make Old Mexico to-morrow. I'll side you if you say so. I've got nothing to keep me here."