Whizzer’s forehead puckered, as he stared at Brick. “I seen two mans in house. One man got somethin’ on his face, like stage-robber. Woman and baby there.” “One man was masked, eh? It wasn’t the Indian man, was it?” Whizzer shook his head and looked around quickly. “Don’tcha be afraid of him,” said Brick. “He’s dead.” “He hit me,” said Whizzer simply. “They make me stay in the mine and I can’t git out.” He began crying softly, still terrified at what he had experienced in the few days. Brick swore softly and hugged the youngster. “Don’t cry, buddy,” he said. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to hurt yuh ag’in, y’betcha.” They swung their horses around and galloped away toward town. “Do yuh think Santel done it, Brick?” queried Silent, as they swept along the grade. “I dunno, Silent. Me and Harp met Santel just below here that day. Anyway, he knows somethin’ about it, and I’m goin’ to find out what he knows, if I have to drill him plumb full of lead to let the information leak out.” Whizzer was asleep when they rode up to Wesson’s home and dismounted. Mrs. Wesson met Brick at the door, and gasped with surprize at sight of his burden. Whizzer woke up and began crying, but the sleep had refreshed him and he quit crying as soon as he realized that he was no longer in the tunnel. In a few words Brick explained how they had found him, and in less time than that Mrs. Wesson had placed him at the table behind a big bowl of bread and milk. He ate ravenously, while Mrs. Wesson sat across the table from him, her eyes filled with tears, and promised him a nice warm bath and a soft bed. “Gotta find my daddy,” he told her. “They didn’t give me no bread and milk.” “What did they give yuh, honey?” asked Mrs. Wesson. Whizzer swallowed a big portion of bread, almost choking over it. “They gimme ——,” he said simply. “Yuh can’t beat him, can yuh?” grinned Brick. “He’s a buckaroo.” “I lost m’ spur. Mebbe—” he smiled at Brick—“mebbe my daddy’s got it. He said he was goin’ to git me ’nother one.” “Where’s Harp?” asked Silent. “Him and Miss Miller went to the dance at Silverton,” smiled Mrs. Wesson. “Harp had a sweet time squarin’ himself with her, but he made Brick out to be the biggest liar in the State—and she believed him. By jinks, I think she likes him. Human nature is one queer thing. I’ll betcha Leach will be sore as a boil. He sure did want to go with her.” Whizzer laid aside his spoon and sighed deeply. “Had enough, buddy?” asked Brick. “Uh-huh. I can’t hold no more.” “Now I’ll give him a good hot bath and put him into a nice bed,” said Mrs. Wesson. “Mebbe we better have the doctor over to fix up them bruises, Brick. He’s sure been skinned awful bad.” “Don’t hurt.” Whizzer shook his head. “That’s fine, buddy,” nodded Brick. “Now if yuh could only tell us what that masked man looked like.” Whizzer shook his head. “Dunno. He had a cloth on his face.”