"I said to myself I'd be--hanged if I'd tell you, that--day you cheated the quicksand," Barger imparted jerkily, "but you've got--a--right to know. McCoppet and that--pal of his give Lawrence twenty thousand--dollars, cash, to queer you on the--reservation line and run you off your claim." Van scrutinized the sunken face and glittering eyes with the closest attention. "What's that?" he said. "Bought Lawrence to fake out the reservation line? Who told you, Matt? Who told you that?" The convict seemed to gain in strength. He was making a terrible effort to finish all he had to impart. "Trimmer put me--on to all the game. It was him that told me--you was goin' through, when I--pretty near got you, in the pass." Van's eyes took on a deep intensity. "Trimmer? Trimmer?" "Larry Trimmer--Pine-tree Trimmer," explained the convict impatiently. "McCoppet--wanted you detained, the day they--jumped your claim. Lawrence--he run the line out crooked fer--twenty thousand bucks. Culver was put away by Cayuse, mebbe because--he was square--Larry wasn't sure---- I guess--that's all, but it ought to--help you some." He dropped himself down and languidly closed his eyes. "Good heavens, man," said Van, still staring, "are you sure of what you're saying?" There was no response for a time. Then Barger murmured: "Excuse me, Van Buren, fer--bein' so damn--long--dyin'." "You're not dying, Matt--go to sleep," said. Van. "I'll be here beside you, all night." He sat down, got up and sat down again, stirred to the depths of his being by the story the man had revealed. Beth's money, then, had gone for this, to bribe a Government agent! A tumult of mad, revengeful thoughts went roaring through his mind. A grim look came upon his face, and fire was flashing from his eyes. He arose and sat down a dozen times, all the while looking at the worn, broken figure that lay on the earth at his feet. What an ill-used, gaunt, and exhausted frame it was, loose and abandoned by the strength that once had filled it with vigor and might. What a boyish look had come at last upon the haggard, sunken face! The night wind was chill. He had forgotten for himself, but he thought of it now for Barger. He laid his blankets on the inert limbs and up around the shoulders. Perhaps another hour went by, with Van still sleepless by his charge. The convict stirred. "Van--Buren," he said in a hoarse, rattling whisper, "Van----" Van was instantly alert. "Hello." Barger partially raised his hand. "So long,"--and the hand dropped downward. "Matt!" answered Van, quickly kneeling on the earth. He caught up the fingers, felt their faint attempt to close upon his own--and the man on the ground was dead. CHAPTER XLIII PREPARING THE NET FOR A DRAW