“I reckon I know more 'n's good for me.” “Then you ought to see she's pretty near done for.” “Estelle? She's bluffing.” “No, she isn't. Not a bit of it. When a woman's worked up and tired out at the same time, something's likely to break. You were a fool to bring her, anyhow. I don't know why I let you.” “_You! You_ let me!” “You said so much about her being strong. Why, she's a child.” “Look here, you've said some things tonight that I don't like.” “Oh, have I? But this isn't getting us along any. The first thing is to look around here a little more. There are any number of ways they might have taken without going down the road.” Even McGlory could see the reason in this suggestion. They lighted matches and prowled about, peering behind trees and bushes, looking for broken or bent twigs, for any indication of the passage of a human being. But the heavy growth of trees shut out what light there was overhead, and neither was skilful enough to direct his search well. “Find anything, Joe?” “Not a thing. When it comes to sneaking off, Roche has head enough. It's the only thing he's good for.” “The more I think of it, Joe, the more I believe they've gone to the house.” “You're off there.” “No, I'm not. Listen a minute. Supposing they started off in the woods and tried to dodge the house. Pretty soon Estelle gives out--surer than New Year's. And it would be pretty soon, too, because the excitement wouldn't keep her up long. Now what is Roche going to do? He isn't the man to face out a bad situation like that--never in this world. He'd do one of two things--he would skip out and leave her, or he would get her to the house. If he skipped, there isn't one chance in a thousand of our finding either of them. If he took her to the house, we can get one or both. We can't stay around here much longer. We'd better try the house, and if they aren't there, or anywhere about the place, we 'll go on toward Hewittson.” “You 'll have to go without me, then.” “You think so?” “I don't leave this place till I see Roche curled up stiff.” This was said as quietly as McGlory could say anything, but it was convincing. The other looked keenly at him. Suddenly McGlory, feeling in his pockets, muttered a curse and started back toward the spot where they had slept. “What's up? Lost something?” “None of your business!” McGlory was searching the ground feverishly. “If you told me what it was, maybe I could help you.” No answer. McGlory's temper was rising again. Finding nothing where he had lain, he began thrashing about the bushes. “Unless it's something important, Joe, you're wasting a lot of time.” “Well, say--you--you ain't seen a paper--or anything, have you?” “A letter?” “Not exactly. It wasn't in an envelope.” “Oh, you mean this, maybe.” With a lighted match in one hand, he drew a folded paper from his pocket and started to open it. McGlory sprang forward, recognized it, and tried to snatch it away.