r most men, his
foresight had failed. During the long six-hour nooning Boland suffered
with intermittent cramps in his legs, wakeful while the others slept. He
made no complaint; but, though he kept his trouble from words, he could
not hold his face straight. When they started on at four o'clock, Pete
turned aside for the little spring in Coyote Pass, instead of keeping to
the more direct but rougher trail to the Fresnal, over the Baboquivari,
as first planned. Boland promised to be something of a handicap; which,
had he but known it, was all the better for the intents of Mr. Something
Dewing.

* * * * *

For Mr. Dewing had not made good his strategic retreat to Old Mexico.
When Pete Johnson left the card room Dewing disappeared, indeed, taking
with him his two confederates. But they went no farther than to a modest
and unassuming abode near by, known to the initiated as the House of
Refuge. There Mr. Dewing did three things: first, he dispatched
messengers to bring tidings of Mr. Johnson and his doings; second, he
wrote to Mr. Mayer Zurich, at Cobre, and sent it by the first mail west,
so that the stage should bring it to Cobre by the next night; third, he
telegraphed to a trusty satellite at Silverbell, telling him to hold an
automobile in readiness to carry a telegram to Mayer Zurich, should
Dewing send such telegram later. Then Dewing lay down to snatch a little
sleep.

The messengers returned; Mr. Johnson and his Eastern friend were
foregathered with Joe Benavides, they reported; there were horses in
evidence--six horses. Mr. Dewing rose and took station to watch the jail
from a safe place; he saw Stanley come out with Boland. The so-called
lumbermen had provided horses in the meanwhile. Unostentatiously, and
at a safe distance, the three followed the cavalcade that set out from
the Benavides house.

Dewing posted his lumbermen in relays--one near the entrance of Robles'
Pass; one beyond the R E Ranch, which they circled to avoid; himself
following the tracks of the four friends until he was assured, beyond
doubt, that they shaped their course for the landmark of Baboquivari
Peak. Then he retraced his steps, riding slowly perforce, lest any great
dust should betray him. In the burning heat of noon he rejoined Scotty,
the first relay; he scribbled his telegram on the back of an old envelope
and gave it to Scotty. That worthy spurred away to the R E Ranch; the
hour for concealment