A man came into the office and deposited a suit-case on the floor. It was one of the office men and Devine introduced him to Brick and Harp. Devine glanced at his watch. “Baldy will be getting out of here rather late, if he don’t hurry,” observed Devine. “He’s usually on time,” replied the man. “Anyway, I can’t get a train out of Marlin until near midnight.” “Goin’ for a trip?” asked Brick. “Going to Frisco. My folks live there. I’ve been here at the mine for almost two years without a vacation; so I think it is about time to see the old folks.” “That’s right,” smiled Brick. “I wish I could see mine. Goin’ out on the stage, eh?” “If it ever shows up.” “If it ever shows up?” parroted Brick. “Hasn’t it been here?” “Not today.” Brick and Harp stared at each other. They could hardly believe that statement. “Why, it went through Marlin City about eleven o’clock,” stated Brick. “And we just came over the road,” added Harp wonderingly. “Well, it never came here, that’s a sure thing,” declared Devine. “The little kid was with Baldy,” said Brick, getting to his feet. “What do yuh reckon has happened to ’em?” “I don’t see how anything could happen to them.” Brick strode to the door, but turned to Devine. “Barney, was there a stranger here today—a man on a tall sorrel?” “Yes. He wanted to buy some Durham tobacco, but we didn’t have any. He didn’t say who he was, but he did say that he picked the wrong road.” * * * * * Brick and Harp mounted and rode out of the camp, heading back toward Marlin City. They rode at a swift gallop, with Brick riding at the outer edge of the grades, watching the road closely. There were many sharp curves, where they were forced to slacken their pace; but only long enough to obviate the danger of running into some one coming toward them. About three miles from the mines, Brick jerked his horse to a stop and dismounted. Harp whirled and rode back to him, peering down the steep side of the hill, where the underbrush grew in a tangle among the tall timber. “Here’s where they went over,” said Brick rather shakily, pointing at the wheel tracks, which had cut deeply into the outer edge of the road. They could see where the stage had torn into the dirt of the side-hill, like the gash of plow-shares. “My ——!” gasped Harp. “They tore plumb down through that brush! I’ll betcha they went clear to the bottom of the cañon.” They dropped their bridle-reins and began the descent. The going was rough and the hill so steep that they were forced to cling to the rocks and brush. Down they went through the brush, following the marks of the stage.