Alone he had explored the tunnels in Lacy's mine, creeping about in the darkness, guided only by the flash of an electric torch, until he thoroughly understood the nature of the work being accomplished. As soon as dawn came he sought two reliable men in the valley below, and posted them as guards over his own property; but, before he finally rode away, the three brought forth the body of the murdered Mexican and reverently buried it on a secluded spot of the bleak hillside. Then, convinced that every precaution had been taken, Westcott turned his horse's head toward Haskell. As he rode slowly up the street in the bright sunlight his mind reverted to Stella Donovan. The stern adventures of the night had temporarily driven the girl from his thoughts, but now the memory returned, and her bright, womanly face arose before him, full of allurement. He seemed to look once more into the wonderful depths of her eyes and to feel the fascination of her smile. Eager for the greeting, which he felt assured awaited him, he strode through the open door into the office. The room was vacant, but as he crossed the floor toward the desk the proprietor entered through the opening leading into the barroom beyond. Timmons had quite evidently been drinking more than usual--the effect being largely disclosed by loquacity of speech. "Hello, Jim!" he cried at sight of the other. "Thought you'd be back, but, damn it, yer too late--she's--she's gone; almighty pretty girl, too. I told the boys it was a blame shame fer her ter run off thataway." "Who has run off?" And Westcott's hand crushed down on the man's shoulder with a force that half-sobered him. "What are you talking about?" "Me! Let up, will yer? Yer was here hopin' ter see that New York girl, wasn't yer?" "Miss Donovan? Yes." "I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere--she's left." "Left--gone from town?" "Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, I reckon. Never sed no word to nobody--just naturally packed up her duds an' hiked." Westcott drew a deep breath. "Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She must have paid her bill." "Oh, she was square enough--sure. She left money an' a note pinned to her pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home--want ter see whut she wrote?" "You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?" Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer. Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott snatched the paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastily pencilled lines: Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the night train, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment. S. D.