“Watch that patch of brush beyond the front of the house, Silent. There’s somethin’ there.” And as an answer to his statement a woman left the patch of brush and went swiftly out of sight on the far side of the house, only to reappear, going toward the corral. Brick got to his feet and motioned for Silent to follow him. They went swiftly down through the brush and out into the open, where they ran toward the house. The woman had discovered Mostano’s body and was too interested to see anything else. They ran past the house and out to the brush patch before the woman saw them. She ran toward them, stopped, as though undecided what to do and went back to the corral. Brick crashed into the brush and stopped short. Just at his feet was the entrance to a tunnel, and in this entrance lay the half-breed baby and—little Whizzer Malloy. Silent crowded in beside Brick and stared at the children. Little Whizzer looked up at them, but there was no recognition in his face. His little feet were tied tightly together with a whang-leather string, and he was as dirty as a child could possibly become. Brick lifted him out and cut the string. “Don’tcha know me, Whizzer?” he asked gently. But the child only whimpered, his eyes filled with fear. “My ——, I’ll betcha they’ve treated him tough,” declared Silent. “But how in —— did he happen to be here? Can yuh figure it out, Brick?” Brick shook his head, his jaws shut tight. The half-breed woman was coming slowly toward them now, her shoulders drooped, her face set in lines of deep grief. She stopped in front of Brick, but would not look at him, as she said— “My man dead—shot.” “Yeah, I know it,” said Brick. “I reckon he had it comin’.” “He dead,” she repeated. “Where did you get this child?” asked Brick, not unkindly. He thought he could get more out of her by not adopting a threatening attitude. She looked blankly at him. “Where did you get this boy?” he asked again. “You tell me where you get him.” “Don’t know,” she said slowly, blankly. “You don’t know? Come on now, tell me where yuh got him.” “Don’ know.” “She sure is a good witness,” observed Silent. “When her kind don’t want to talk, they can sure ruin the perade. Ask her why Santel killed Mostano?” “She don’t know that either.” “Don’ know,” she muttered blankly. “My man dead—shot.” “Well, that’s one thing she does know.” Silent was inclined to sarcasm. Little Whizzer Malloy whimpered and looked at Brick, as if trying to remember who Brick was. “Don’tcha know me, Whizzer?” he asked. But the child only looked blankly at him. Brick noticed that the little fellow had a bad bruise on the right side of his head and his right arm was painfully bruised. “What the —— was that hole over there?” Silent pointed back toward the brush patch.