“Yes; he is dead! Some men came and killed him with a funny stick. They fired at him, and a rock came down, but it didn’t hurt him, and then they hit him and killed him, because he wouldn’t tell them where a deed, I think they said, was. And I hid in the rocks and run away.” “I don’t know who could have been vile enough to injure that good man. He was like a child in his truthfulness and like an angel in his goodness. And he was good to me. Come on, Shoshone and Mike, come on. Let us go to him, and I swear to search Wyoming to avenge the death of this good and inoffensive man! Shoshone, if I am anything at all of what all you boys believe me to be, I owe it to him. He taught me that it is never too late to mend.” “So will I,” said Shoshone solemnly, as to himself, while Mike said: “You can count me in, too, Angel, and together we will find who has done this thing, and bring swift punishment on him.” They rode on in the gathering dusk and soon were by the shack that had been built near the claim, as it was convenient for water. There was a light inside, a fact which seemed remarkable, and which made them use much caution. During the time when Loney had been running down the trail and returning with Helen, Shoshone and Mike, John and Dopey had taken the inert form of Morris and carried it to the shack and placed it on the bed in a position so that they could torture him at their leisure. The table had a lighted lamp upon it. Morris lay pale and almost in a comatose condition. On the table by the lamp lay a heavy bar of iron. John and Dopey were making a hurried search for the missing deed when Morris groaned and stirred slightly on the bed, which caused the two miscreants to stop in their fruitless search and approach him. In the fracas John’s false beard had become loosened, and he let it fall, while Dopey, who took his cue always from John, drew his off also, and they stood revealed as the two who had carried Dora from her home. “’Ow is he, boss? T’ink we’d better get t’rough wid him?” “He seems unconscious. That pounding you gave him with the slung-shot was too much for his thick head, and may kill him, after all! He hasn’t been able to speak a word since he has been here. But you shall speak!” he continued to Morris, “you shall speak and tell me where to find the deed, or I’ll slit your throat for you! Wake up and speak, or I’ll tear your heart out, you old fool! Where is the deed? Where is the deed, I say?” Then the villain choked the unconscious man, shaking him like a rat, and finally discouraged, threw him back again upon the pillow. “It’s no use, Dopey; he is the same as dead! We must wait and search!” “Dora! Dora! mein little chilt!” murmured the unconscious Morris, in a feeble tone. “Hear dat, boss? He spoke!”