ction made of the place a
thoroughly protected walled fortress, capable of resisting a
considerable assault.

"Of course with this gang we could sail right over them," observed Buck,
thoughtfully, "but we'd lose a considerable of men doing it."

"Ain't no chance of sneaking somebody inside?" suggested Watkins.

"Got to give Old Man Hooper credit for some sense," replied the senor,
shortly.

"We can starve 'em out," suggested somebody.

"Unless I miss the old man a mile he's already got a messenger headed
for the troops at Fort Huachuca," interposed Macomber. "He ain't fool
enough to take chances on a local sheriff."

"You're tooting he ain't," approved Buck Johnson. "It's got to be quick
work."

"Burn him out," said Watkins.

"It's the young lady's property," hesitated my boss. "I kind of hate to
destroy it unless we have to."

At this moment the Morgan stallion, which I had not noticed before, was
reined back to join our little group. Atop him rode the diminutive form
of Artie Brower whom I had thought down and out. He had evidently had
his evening's dose of hop and under the excitation of the first effect
had joined the party. His derby hat was flattened down to his ears.
Somehow it exasperated me.

"For heaven's sake why don't you get you a decent hat!" I muttered, but
to myself. He was carrying that precious black bag.

"Blow a hole in his old walls!" he suggested, cheerfully. "That old fort
was built against Injins. A man could sneak up in the shadow and set her
off. It wouldn't take but a dash of soup to stick a hole you could ride
through a-horseback."

"Soup?" echoed Buck.

"Nitroglycerine," explained Watkins, who had once been a miner.

"Oh, sure!" agreed Buck, sarcastically. "And where'd we get it?"

"I always carry a little with me just for emergencies," asserted Brower,
calmly, and patted his black bag.

There was a sudden and unanimous edging away.

"For the love of Pete!" I cried. "Was there some of that stuff in there
all the time I've been carrying it around?"

"It's packed good: it can't go off," Artie reassured us. "I know my
biz."

"What in God's name do you want such stuff for!" cried Judson.

"Oh, just emergencies," answered Brower, vaguely, but I remembered his
uncanny skill in opening the combination of the safe. Possibly that
contract between Emory and Hooper had come into his hands through
professional activities. However, that did not matter.

"I can make a drop of s