“He’s found them, from the way things have quieted down, back there. He’ll be hot on your trail, now--unless Nevada can stop him, which I doubt. He’s Injun enough to hold women in contempt when it comes to a show-down. Here.” He pulled Rawley down between two great, upstanding bowlders standing black against the stars. Rawley felt a movement of Peter’s arm, and knew that Peter had pulled a gun from somewhere and was aiming it across a ridge of rock. Rawley himself could hear nothing but the crying of the wakened baby in the shack, the yelp of a kicked dog. For a long time, it seemed to Rawley, they waited. He could not hear a sound. But Peter still held his gun leveled across the rock before them, and Rawley could feel how Peter’s muscles were tensed for a struggle. Two greenish lights showed faintly as a star-beam struck the eyeballs of a dog. A shuffling sound approaching through the weedy gravel, a sniffling at Peter’s hand. Rawley felt a crimple down his spine, though he did not think that he was afraid. A pebble plunked into something close beside him, and the dog shied off with a faint, staccato yelp. Young Jess, then, was close. A muttered curse reached the ears of the two between the bowlders. Immediately afterward, Nevada’s whisper came distinctly. “I think he’s hidden here, somewhere in the rocks. His car is down in the canyon, but he wouldn’t go that way--he’d expect you to follow. Watch the dog. He hasn’t any gun--I know. Can you creep back toward the hill--” “Sh-sh. You call him. Quiet, as if you was scared. Make out you’re sweet on him--” “I can’t. He knows--I hate him. We quarreled to-day. I hate his snobbish ways--I told him so.” “Call his name if you run onto him. Then duck. I’ll--” “Sh-sh--he may be near!” The two were standing close together, just beyond the bowlder that reared its bulk beyond Peter. Rawley bit his lip, straining his ears to hear more. “You call him. He won’t s’spect--” Young Jess urged in a whisper. “He’d be a fool if he didn’t. I tell you he knows--” “He’s stuck on yuh. That makes a fool--” “Sh-sh. He’s not--” Inch by inch, Rawley was drawing himself backward, until now he was free of the bowlder and Peter. From the sounds, he knew that the two were standing close to the rock. He thought that they were facing the river, though he could not be sure. It did not greatly matter. He inched that way until he could faintly distinguish two upright blots in the darkness of the bowlder’s shadow. Upon the taller of the two he launched himself, reaching instinctively for the gun he knew was there. His hand closed on the cool steel of the barrel, and he gave a mighty wrench as he went down. Young Jess, caught unawares from behind, had no chance to save himself. Rawley landed full on his back, his chest forcing the face of Young Jess into the gravel. His left hand gripped the back of Jess’s neck.