mon in
Harlan, and that violence, which he had wished to avoid, was imminent.

But Harlan's roving gaze, as he backed slightly away from Haydon, came to
the breast-pocket of the man's shirt. His gaze centered there definitely,
his eyes narrowing, his muscles leaping a little.

For out of the pocket stretched a gold chain, broken, its upper
end--where it entered the buttonhole of the shirt--fastened to the
buttonhole with a rawhide thong, as though the gold section were not long
enough to reach.

And the gold section of the chain was of the peculiar pattern of the
section that Harlan had picked up on the desert near Sentinel Rock.

CHAPTER XVI

DEEP WATER

Despite his conviction that he stood in the presence of the mysterious
"Chief" of whom he had heard much, Harlan's expression did not change.
There was a new interest added to it, and a deeper glow in his eyes. But
he gave no outward evidence of surprise.

"I reckon I searched him," he said, answering Haydon's charge. "If I
found anything on him I'm turnin' it over to Barbara Morgan--or hangin'
onto it. That's my business."

Haydon laughed, for Harlan's voice had broken the tension that had come
with the interval of threatening silence.

Since he could not induce Harlan to divulge anything of interest there
was nothing to do but to withdraw as gracefully as possible. And he
backed away, smiling, saying placatively:

"No offense intended, Harlan. I was merely curious on Barbara's account."
He mounted his horse, urged it along the corral fence, and sent back a
smiling:

"So-long."

Motionless, still standing where he had stood when Haydon climbed on his
horse, Harlan watched while the man rode the short distance to the house.
At the corner around which he had appeared some minutes before, Haydon
brought his horse to a halt, waved a hand--at Barbara, Harlan
supposed--and then rode on, heading westward toward Sunset Trail.

Harlan watched him until he had penetrated far into the big valley; then
he turned, slowly, and sought Red Linton--finding him in the
blacksmith-shop.

Later in the day--after Harlan and Linton had talked long, standing in
the door of the blacksmith-shop--Linton mounted his horse and rode to
where Harlan stood.

Linton was prepared for a long ride. Folded in the slicker that was
strapped to the cantle of his saddle was food; he carried his rifle in
the saddle sheath, and a water-bag bulged above the horse's withers.

"You w