he way to Argenta. There was no
intermediate stop. There could be no signals--no sending of a message.
Half the distance had they gone, panting and straining, barely fifteen
miles to the hour. Broad daylight, and then the rejoicing sunshine, had
come to cheer and gladden and revive, and Cullin shouted inquiry, as he
bent down from his perch, and Graham nodded or shook his head by way of
reply. Swiftly and scientifically he kept up the play of the sponges;
shook his head to Cullin's suggestion of a little more whiskey--the
frontier's "first aid" for every kind of mishap. The pulse said there
was no further need of it, at the moment at least. And then, as they
rumbled over some resounding bridge-work and crossed the swift and
foaming Run, the train crept under the shadow of the cliff and
stretched away over a bit of open, undulating grassland, and then the
racket ceased for a while and it was possible, by bending down, to
catch the patient's breathing.

And it gave Geordie an idea.

The poor, bruised head was turning in restless pain; the puffed and
swollen lips were moving; the still unconscious man was muttering. Not
a word could Geordie distinguish. It was all guesswork. But, glancing
up at Cullin, he called: "He's trying to talk. Perhaps I can get his
name," and again inclined his ear and bent down over the luckless
fellow's face. "Yes," he said, loudly, so that Cullin could hear--"yes,
I understand.... Don't worry.... You're with friends.... Tell us your
name and home.... What? Try once again.... Bry--what? Oh, Breifogle?...
Yes. Argenta? That's just where we're going. We'll be there very soon.
Don't try to talk more now." And again the sponge was busily plied, and
then the grimy nurse glanced upward at Cullin, now shinning down from
his perch in the skylight. "His home's right ahead at Argenta.
Breifogle's the name."

"Breifogle!" shouted Cullin, aghast. "Why, that's the big brewer,
banker, mine-owner, and Lord knows what all--that owns half of Yampah
County and wants to own the rest. Could he tell who slugged him? Does
he know anything about it? Ask him."

Obediently Geordie put the question, but no answer came. "Seems to have
wandered off," he said. "Perhaps we'd be wise to worry him with no more
questions. If he's what you say, they'll be looking everywhere for him.
When did the men at Silver Shield go out?"

"Yesterday morning at ten o'clock, so they said on No. 4. There was a
pack of 'em come down to Arge