to hit. A regular splash of them, too. I might have
fired back."

Conrad's eyes were twinkling. "So you might. What a blessing is
self-control! I suppose he's killed so many in his day it's sort of
lost its glamour. See the admiring public he left behind by only
frightening you to death."

"But the woman in the case!"

"What woman?" The foreman looked from one to the other.

"You didn't see her?"

"I confess I haven't the eye for skirts you have, but--" He broke off
suddenly and darted to the grade. "Here!" he snapped, peering into the
dark woods beyond. "Come out of it."

Three men emerged somewhat shame-facedly from the gloom and followed
him to the shack. One of them, evidently the leader, was talking
volubly, but Conrad did not even appear to listen until they stood in
the open before the door.

"Now, what were you doing there?"

"Lefty Werner and Heppel and me, we hear shots," explained a large,
raw-boned foreigner with an ugly scar along the side of his jaw. "We
come quick. Fear boss and young missus maybe need help."

Koppy, the Polish under foreman, sent his eyes darting from face to
face. In his manner was a curious mingling of bravado and
diffidence--a lumbering body, a shrinking way of holding himself, a
stammering foreign accent and phrasing. But in spite of it there was
ample ground for Torrance's persistent suspicions. Perhaps it was the
darting, all-seeing eyes, perhaps the exaggeration of diffidence, but
Koppy gave the impression of thinking more than he said.

"When we need help--" Torrance began furiously.

Conrad cut in more quietly, but he was evidently holding himself in
check. "And so you sneak up and listen--hide in the trees?"

"No sneak." Something stronger peeped through Koppy's veneer.

"We won't argue it. You know I know."

"I hear rifles," said Koppy, looking from foreman to boss. "I come
quick." He was, in his subtle way, demanding an explanation.

"If you were half as keen over the knives and knuckle-dusters of them
fellows of yours!" snapped Torrance.

"Rifles kill--far away. Knives--perhaps not--and only that far." He
swung out a dexterous arm.

"Except when they throw the beastly things," growled Conrad beneath his
breath, with twinges of memory.

"My men throw only when they can't reach," replied Koppy, as if Conrad
had spoken aloud.

"Or when they're afraid to," added the foreman.

"Or when they're afraid to," agreed the underforeman.