The old man sat down on an outcropping stone, pulled out his pipe and
lit it, puffing thick rings of smoke into the air with manifest
enjoyment. Winston did not answer until the other again turned his
eyes upon him questioningly.
"I was busy thinking," explained the engineer, "but must confess the
situation looks about as bad to me as it does to you. The silver
lining of this cloud is not apparent. Of course, we 've got the right
of it, but in some way Fate has managed to leave us set square against
the law. We 're outlaws without having done a thing to warrant it.
There is n't but one possible way out, and that is for us to get on the
right side again. Now, how can it be done? Some one of us will have
to go down to San Juan, before those fellows get over here in force,
swear out warrants against Farnham and his partners, and have this
whole affair probed to the bottom. We 've got them, if we can only get
the ear of the District Attorney, and shift this fight into the courts.
The trouble is, Farnham was smart enough to get there ahead of us, and
he 'll win out if we don't move quick and block him. I can't go
myself, for I 'm a prisoner, and must remain with the sheriff, or will
be considered a fugitive. The only question is, Can any one hope to
get through?"
Hicks permitted his gaze to stray out across the dim valley below, then
up toward the ragged summit of the overhanging crest of rocks. Through
the smoke of his pipe he deliberately surveyed Stutter Brown, perched
motionless at the edge of his watchtower, a Winchester silhouetted
black against the stone.
"Not down thet way, anyhow," he announced, finally, pointing with his
pipe-stem. "I reckon a mosquiter could n't git through along thet
trail ternight. Ever hear tell o' Daggett Station?"
Winston rubbed his chin, endeavoring to recall the name.
"I 'm not sure. Is it the water-tank and section-house, next stop
below Bolton Junction, on the main line?"
"You 've called the tarn. Wal, it's over thar," pointing apparently
into the heart of the mountain, "straight south, twenty miles as ther
crow flies from the foot o' this rise, across as barren a sand waste as
ever broke a man's heart--nary drop o' water from start ter finish, an'
hot--oh, hell!" He paused, thinking. "But I hardly reckon them people
would ever think 'bout guardin' thet way out, an' a good rider could
make it easy afore daylight, an' catch the train East."
"How do you get down?"
"Through a long, twistin' ravine; it's a mean place fer travellin', an'
you have ter lead the hoss till yer strike the sand."