At last he dismounted and tied his horse to a bush. About him were thick shadows, before him the tall bulwark of the uplands. His feet were in a trail that he knew. He went on up, as silently, as swiftly as he could. Presently he stood on the edge of the same flat on which the Longstreets had made their camp, though a good half-mile to the east of the canvas shack. A wide black void across the plateau was Dry Gulch. Upon its nearer bank, not a hundred yards from him, a dry wood fire blazed brightly; he must have seen it long ago except that a shoulder of the mountain had hidden it. It burned fiercely, thrusting its flames high, sending its sparks skyward. In its flickering circle of light he saw dark objects which he knew must be the forms of men. He did not count them, merely prayed within his heart that Courtot was among them, and came on. He heard the men talking. He did not listen for words, since words did not matter now. He hearkened for a certain voice. The voices broke off and a man stood up. When he was within a score of paces of the fire Howard stopped. The man's thick squat form was clearly outlined. Unmistakably this was Monte Devine. There were two or three other forms squatting; it was impossible to distinguish a crouching man from a boulder. 'That you, Monte?' called Howard. 'Good guess,' came Monte's heavy, insolent voice. 'You've got one on me, though, pardner.' 'Courtot here?' demanded Howard. Monte Devine laughed then. 'Hello, Al,' he returned lightly. 'You and Jim sure play a great little game of tag, don't you?' 'He isn't here, then?' 'Left an hour ago. There's just me and Bettins and True on the job. Come on in and make yourself at home.' Howard came on slowly. Monte might be telling the truth, and then again lying came easy to him. Every dark blot was searched out suspiciously by Howard's frowning eyes. Again, having read what was in Howard's mind, Monte laughed. 'He ain't here, Al,' he insisted. 'You and him will have to make a date if you ever get together.' The two other men rose from the ground and stood a little aside. No doubt they were True and Bettins; still neither had spoken and in this uncertain light either might be Courtot. 'Hello, True,' said Howard shortly. True's voice answered him. 'Hello, Bettins,' he said, and it was Bettin's voice replying. 'Where did Jim go?' he asked. 'Search me,' retorted Monte Devine. Then, a hint of a jeer in his voice, 'Going to stay out there in the dark all night? 'Fraid Jim'll be hiding out waiting to pot you?' The other men laughed. 'That's his sort of play,' muttered Alan coolly.