She smiled. "I suppose so, though I don't know what an outfit is." "I mean to Lord What's-his-name's party." "Yes, I think I do. I'm rather sure of it." "Funny about some members of your crowd having the same name as the man we're looking for." "Mr. Kilmeny, you mean?" "Jack Kilmeny! Yes, ma'am." "He introduced himself to us, but I don't think the name he went by was Kilmeny. I was told it was Crumbs." "That's just a joke. His friends call him that because his people are 'way up in G. Fine bred--crumbs. Get the idea?" "I think so." "Came from the old country, his father did--son of some big gun over there. Likely he's some kin to your friends." He put the last observation as a question, with a sharp glance from under his heavy gray eyebrows. Moya chose to regard it as a statement. "Are you still searching for him?" she asked. "You bet we are. The sheriff's got a notion he's up in these hills somewheres. A man answering his description was seen by some rancher. But if you ask _me_, I'd say he was busy losing himself 'way off in Routt County, clear off the map. He used to punch cows up there and he knows all kinds of holes to hide in. It don't stand to reason he'd still be fooling around here. He's bridle-wise and saddle-broke--knows every turn of the road." "Yes," Moya assented listlessly. "He had his getaway all planned before ever he came down here. That's a cinch. The fishing was all a bluff. The four of them had the hold-up arranged weeks ago. They've gone into a hole and drawn it in after them." "Don't you think there's a chance he didn't do it?" she asked in a forlorn way. "Not a chance. Jack Kilmeny and Colter pulled off the play. What the others had to do with it I don't know." The deputy passed to the fishing in his conversation, hoped she would have luck, stroked his white goatee, and presently departed. The man had scarcely disappeared around a bend in the gulch before a sound startled her. Moya turned quickly, to see a man drop down the face of a large rock to the ground. Even before he turned she recognized that pantherine grace and her heart lost a beat. He came straight toward her, with the smile in his blue eyes that claimed comradeship as a matter of course. "You--here," she gasped. "I'm here, neighbor. Where ought I to be--in Routt County losing myself?" Her little hand was lost in his big brown fist, her gaze locked in his. "You heard him?" "Couldn't help it. I was working down through that grove of pines to the river when I saw him." "He may come back." Her quick glance went up the gulch into which the deputy had disappeared. "I reckon not. Let's sit down and talk." Her first thought had been of his danger, but she remembered something else now. "No, I think not, Mr. Kilmeny." The deep eyes that met his steadily had in them the rapier flash. He smiled. "Because I am a miscreant, I reckon," he drawled. "You say it, not I." "Now you're dodging, neighbor. You think it."