“That’s the tunnel that opens under the house,” said Brick. “They had a slick getaway. When Santel showed up Mostano put the woman and kids into the tunnel and slid the bunk over the trap-door. No wonder Santel didn’t find anythin’.” “What do yuh reckon he was lookin’ for, Brick?” Brick squinted at Silent and back toward the house. “Does seem kinda funny, Silent. I’ll betcha this woman would know—if she made a sneak with the kids.” “Don’ know,” persisted the woman blankly. “Is there anythin’ yuh do know?” snorted Silent. She looked blankly at Silent and turned her gaze back toward the corral. “My man dead,” she said simply. They walked over to the corral and looked at Mostano. Either of Santel’s bullets would have killed him. Mostano’s six-shooter was lying in the dust beside the corral, several feet away, proving that he had made an attempt to defend himself, but had dropped the gun as he fell. “There ain’t nothin’ we can do for him,” observed Brick, “so we’ll just put the body in the house and take this kid back to Marlin.” Little Whizzer’s legs had evidently been bound ever since he had disappeared, and they were too weak to support his body. They propped him against the fence, while they placed Mostano’s body in the house, but made the woman accompany them. “We’ll send somebody out here,” Brick told the woman, as they picked up Whizzer and started for their horses. “Don’ want nobody,” she declared. “You keep away.” “Write yore own ticket,” said Brick shortly, and walked away. They got their horses and rode back toward Marlin City with Brick carrying Whizzer in his arms. The youngster seemed to be trying to figure out what it was all about, and Brick grinned encouragingly. “Don’tcha worry, Whizzer,” he told him. “Yo’re plenty safe now.” They crossed the hills and came out on the grade at the little trail, just south of where Baldy had gone over the bank with the stage. Whizzer had straightened up a little and seemed less dazed now, so Brick led the way back to where the stage had gone over. The youngster looked around, as though he recognized the spot, and finally looked up at Brick. “Where’s my daddy?” he asked. “For the love of mud!” exclaimed Silent. “He’s rememberin’.” “Do yuh remember the stage, Whizzer?” asked Brick. “Remember what happened the day you rode with your daddy?” “I fell off.” Whizzer’s eyes were round and excited. “Yuh did?” “Yeah!” He looked around. “I fell off on the road. Where did my daddy go?” “And then somebody picked yuh up,” prompted Brick, ignoring the question. “Who picked yuh up, Whizzer?” “I hurt my head. Somebody shoot a gun.” “Didja see anybody before yuh fell off the wagon?” Whizzer shook his head. “I hear the gun shoot and then I fall off. Where’s my daddy?” “Whizzer, old-timer,” said Brick earnestly, “you’ve got to remember some things for me. After yuh fell off the stage you hurt yore head. When you woke up, who did yuh see?”