ng so, Mr. Pollock."

"But I'm quite selfish; I'm seeking entertainment. And your peppery
affairs promise it. Do you give me permission to take a hand?"

"Gladly."

"Then as a beginning I'll go to town. Saurez, you say, was the old
Mexican's name? And give me the facts again as you know them about the
affair of your father and the man Dent in the saloon."

Pollock listened closely as Steele Weir repeated the story.

"That's all I know, and it's meager at best," the engineer concluded.

"Pity you didn't get to read the deposition, which would have
increased your fund of information. More unfortunate it is that you
haven't the paper itself. But we'll do the best we can without it for
the present. Kindly have some one drive me in to San Mateo."

"Atkinson, the superintendent, is going there for me. I thought he
might pick up something of Martinez' whereabouts."

"Where does Judge Gordon live?"

"I can't tell you that. But you can easily learn when you reach
town."

"Well, the Judge used to handle company matters, you know." The smile
on Pollock's lips was inscrutable. "I used to have frequent
conferences with him when I was here at the inception of our project.
He is very shrewd in certain ways, but he impressed me as being not
exactly--what shall I say?--'cold steel', for instance." And still
wearing the thin smile, he went out.

If Weir had not had so many things to make his mind grave, from a
missing paper and a missing lawyer to mysterious whiskey and fierce
enemies, he would have leaned back and laughed.

CHAPTER XXI

THE WEAK LINK

Though the sun was bright that day, unseen forces were gathering in
the sky above town, mesa and mountains, not of weather but of fate, to
loose their lightnings. Sunday peace seemed to reign, the languid
summer Sunday peace of tranquil nature. Yet even through this there
was a faint breath of impending events, a quiver or excitement in the
air, an increasing expectation on the part of men, who sensed but did
not realize what was to come.

All day whispers and hints had passed among the people in San Mateo
and out to isolated farms and up nearby creeks, kindling in the
ignorant, brown-skinned Mexicans a lively interest and an exorbitant
curiosity. Nothing was said definitely; nothing was promised outright.
So in consequence speculation ran wild and rumors wilder. The hints
had to do with the manager of the dam who had shot the strange
Mexican: something was to b