Standing by that big bowlder, Shea suddenly awakened from his dream. Out of the night on the other side of the bowlder, where the dim fire of the two natives had flickered into red embers, floated a slow, musical laugh and a few words. The patois was totally unknown to Shea. One of those words, however, drifted across the darkness and smote upon his brain with jarring force. The laugh, too, was not honest; it was a silky laugh, a laugh pregnant with sly meanings and furtive humours. The word was “Dorales.”

Shea trembled. Dorales! Why did these natives speak of Dorales in this way?

Now it came into his mind how Tom Logan had known all about him; how Logan had been in Zacaton City the previous night; how Logan had gotten lost in the lava beds—even to Shea’s innocence a very improbable thing. Prospectors for limestone formations do not enter the lava beds.

Latent suspicion crystallized within Shea’s brain. Tom Logan was no other than Abel Dorales; he was certain of it, he knew it absolutely. His eyes were opened, and he sought for no proof.

Dorales had intended to come here, thinking the place deserted. In Zacaton City he had learned that Thady Shea was probably at Number Sixteen. He had come with cunning intent, he had come with cunning words and a false tongue. The offer of ten thousand dollars might or might not be genuine; no matter!

To the terribly childlike Shea it seemed that Providence had sent that low word and laugh through the night to his ears, to save him from temptation. At thought of how, a few minutes ago, he had been on the point of swallowing the gilded lure of Dorales, he shivered and wiped sweat from his brow.

He turned about and started toward the shacks.

Beside the table where the oil lamp burned, Dorales was sitting and writing. He filled out a previously prepared paper which would transfer to the Empire State Chemical Company, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, all the rights, holdings, and so forth, of Thaddeus Shea in the property underfoot. The company in question consisted of Sandy Mackintavers.

This paper ready for signatures and witnessing, Dorales produced a blank check which bore the almost illegible but widely known signature of A. Mackintavers. This Dorales filled out in the name of Thaddeus Shea, and in the amount of ten thousand dollars. At this instant he heard a hoarse voice whisper his name—“Dorales!”

“Well?” He glanced up sharply, taken by surprise.

Into the lighted doorway stepped Thady Shea, his cavernous eyes blazing. For an instant Dorales was too completely astounded to move—astounded by the realization of how he had just betrayed himself, astounded by the fact that this gaunt fellow was no simpleton after all!

That instant of indecision was fatal. Dorales pushed back his chair and came to his feet, one hand sliding to his coat pocket. Too late! The big fingers of Thady Shea gripped down on his wrist, and Shea’s right hand took him by the left shoulder, and he was staring into the blazing black eyes of the man he had thought to cheat.

“I am glad to meet you, friend Dorales!” A grim smile sat on Shea’s wide lips. “The airy tongues that syllable men’s names have borne to me your rightful cognomen.”

Dorales writhed under that iron grip. His left hand drove up to Shea’s face, landed hard. From his lips broke a shout for aid.

Under the blow, Shea staggered; he knew nothing of fighting. He did know, however, that the shout of Dorales would bring the two Mexicans, and the knowledge fired him. He merely threw himself bodily and blindly at Dorales and carried the latter to the floor.

Luck was kind. Dorales, trying not to fall underneath, writhed aside; the impetus of Shea’s rush, or rather fall, threw Abel Dorales headlong against the wall and knocked him senseless.

After a moment Shea realized that Dorales was knocked out, relaxed his iron grip, and rose. His first thought was to turn out the lamp. Then, taking from the corner the axe helve, Shea passed outside the shack. He discerned two figures running toward him in the starlight, and he strode at them.

The two natives were not at all sure of what had been going on. They called to Shea, who made no answer but came steadily at them. Hesitant, they awaited his approach, again addressing him in English. For response, Shea heaved up the axe helve and struck the nearer man senseless.

Here was answer enough. The second man whipped up a ready revolver and fired hastily; too hastily, for the bullet only whipped Shea’s lean cheek and passed over the hogback. An instant later the axe helve broke the man’s arm.

“Be quiet!” commanded Shea; then considered that the groaning wretch could not well obey such an order with a smashed arm. “Go down and climb into your automobile. Wait there.”

“Si, seÑor.” The native turned and went into the night, groaning.

Stooping, Shea picked up the body of the second man, the one whom he had stricken senseless. He heaved it up over his shoulder, and returned to the shack. There he lighted a match, got the lamp burning again, and clumsily tied Abel Dorales hand and foot. He rightly considered that the fight was taken out of the two natives.

Dorales evinced no symptoms of recovery. Shea threw some water over the face of his native prisoner, and presently the man sat up and stared around. At sight of Shea’s figure, he shrank back and crossed himself.

“I’ll not hurt you,” said Shea. “Where’s Mackintavers?”

“At the ranch, seÑor,” whimpered the wide-eyed native.

“Is he coming here?”

“No, seÑor, not until SeÑor Dorales sends for him.”

“That will not be for some time.” And Shea smiled. “Do you know where Mrs. Crump is?”

“I heard SeÑor Dorales say that she would not get there until to-morrow night, seÑor.”

This explained to Shea why Dorales had planned on cleaning up the sale so hastily. It also set his mind at rest about Mackintavers, whose arrival he had feared.

There was no doubt whatever that Dorales had figured things closely and accurately. Therefore, Mrs. Crump would return upon the following afternoon or evening, and in the meantime no other attempt would be made upon the property.

With this thought in mind, Thady Shea set about making his departure, for he intended to be gone when Mrs. Crump arrived home. If Dorales were safely out of the way for a day or two, there would be no danger in leaving the mine deserted; and Shea was already possessed of a scheme for putting Dorales in cold storage.

Prompt to act upon the swift impulse in his mind, Shea turned over the cleverly drawn paper which Dorales had been studying, and upon its back wrote a note to Mrs. Crump. The check caught his eye, and he pulled it toward him; smiling sardonically, he read and reread that magic slip of paper which stood for ten thousand dollars.

He picked up the check and held it for a moment over the oil lamp—then he quickly jerked it back.

“No, I’ll leave it,” he muttered. “She’ll know I’m honest, perchance! It will be a tongue most eloquent.”

That sardonic smile still curving his wide lips, he turned over the check and carefully indorsed it; across the back of the paper he wrote the same name which he had signed to the note. The whimsical thought came to him that, if he presented this paper at a bank, he would get ten thousand dollars for Mrs. Crump; he had no intention of so presenting it, however—had he not refused the proffered negotiations? He indorsed that check merely as a mute message to Mrs. Crump. It quite escaped him that, by so indorsing it, he had made it good.

He picked up the epistle which he had written, and read it over, frowning:

MADAM: If you do not already know of my unhappy share in your misfortunes, you may be easily apprised of it from other lips. Farewell! I take my leave to seek an errant soul upon the roads, and I shall not return until some testing has surfeited my most uneasy spirit.

—— Thaddeus R. Shea.

He folded up the note, and nodded to himself.

“’Tis not so clear as crystal, yet ’twill serve,” he murmured.

Whether Mrs. Crump would fully understand the reasons for his departure was immaterial, since Shea himself did not fully understand them; at least, he had not figured them into concrete bases. His idea of doing penance, of seeking either ultimate strength or ultimate failure again in the world, was vague. His secondary motive, that of not drawing his benefactress into his own danger from the Mackintavers forces, was equally vague, since Mrs. Crump was far more imperilled and far better equipped to face such peril than he.

However, it is these vague impulses which often lead men upon the trail of fate, and thus it proved with Thady Shea.

He left the note upon the table, and with it the indorsed check and legally phrased paper, knowing that these would in some measure make matters clear to Mrs. Crump. Then he procured that lady’s whiskey and poured a generous portion into a tin cup. This time, he deliberately smelled of it, and smiled grimly. Mrs. Crump kept on hand a vial of laudanum for the sake of recurrent toothache, and from this vial he dropped a little of the drug into the whiskey.

“Friend Dorales will sleep to-night, methinks,” he said to the staring native captive. “Lift up his head!”

The native picked up the head and shoulders of the still senseless Dorales. Forcing open the thin, strong lips, Shea poured his mixture into the man’s mouth. Dorales choked, but swallowed it and began to revive.

Shea packed his few belongings, regretfully left the historic axe helve for Mrs. Crump, then motioned his prisoner to help him lift Dorales. The latter was now swearing luridly but feebly. Together they carried him out into the darkness.

Ten minutes later Dorales was snoring in the tonneau of Mackintavers’ flivver, beside the injured native. By the light of the lamps, the uninjured captive was working under the directions of Shea, who had realized that upon reaching home Mrs. Crump would be unable to use her own car without tires.

So Shea stripped the enemy car, left the tires beside the dust-white flivver, and then climbed into his captured vehicle. Having disarmed his conquered foemen, he had nothing to fear from them, and headed his bumpy equipage toward No Agua. When the caÑon road warned him that he was close to that lone hovel of desolation, he stopped the car and took from his pocket Mrs. Crump’s flask into which he had emptied the laudanum vial. He turned to the two natives, one of whom was groaning and shivering, the other merely shivering.

“Friends,” he said, sonorously, “drink—or take the consequences.”

Knowing from the example of Abel Dorales that the flask contained nothing worse than sleep, mingled with liquor, the two natives drank the contents with avidity. Shea tossed away the empty flask, envy in his eye; he wanted a drink very badly—but he did not want one badly enough to take it.

Passing the No Agua store with a rattle and clatter, Shea considered swiftly. If he went south to Silver City he might meet Mrs. Crump, and he had no desire to meet her at present. If he went west, he would get into Arizona. All he knew about Arizona was founded upon the drama of that name; the prospect of being scalped by Apaches or otherwise mutilated did not invite his soul particularly.

So he turned east to Zacaton City, confident that he could pass through that nest of enemies before dawn, and with a vague scheme already in his mind. All he wanted was to get clear away, and he mentally blessed that vial of laudanum.

It was shortly before dawn when the snoring mechanic in Aimes’ garage was awakened by a tall, gaunt stranger.

“Friend,” said Shea to the yawning mechanic, “in this my vehicle behold three villains, scoundrels of the deepest dye! But yesternight they tried to jump my claim, wherefore I laid them by the heels, and charge you, upon your honest visage, guard them well until the sheriff shall appear to claim them.”

After some repetition the astonished mechanic gathered that this gaunt stranger had brought in three claim jumpers to be held until the sheriff arrived. Not having participated in the events of Sunday morning, the mechanic was blissfully ignorant of Shea’s identity, and Thady had no intention of disclosing it. Despite protest, Shea left the crippled flivver in the garage, the three snoring occupants being obviously safe for another twenty-four hours. Having been carefully dirtied and disguised by Dorales himself, the flivver was not recognized immediately as that of Sandy Mackintavers.

These things successfully accomplished, Thady Shea faded into the gray dawn. For lack of better direction, he took the rough and rugged road that led off to Datil and the transcontinental highway into Magdalena. He had no illusions about arrest not being probable in this case, and he desired to avoid arrest.

Zacaton City was ere long in a roar of half-wrathful enjoyment. The three “claim jumpers,” who slept like the dead and refused to be awakened, were soon known as Abel Dorales, tied hand and foot, and two natives from the Mackintavers ranch, one having a broken arm. The garage mechanic’s description of Thady Shea was accurate and recognizable. Details were lacking and could not be obtained until the drugged men awakened—but details were largely unnecessary.

Ben Aimes did not telephone to Mackintavers at the ranch; at the time, this seemed a rather superfluous detail. The news bearer would have a thankless and possibly dangerous job, so Ben Aimes left Mackintavers alone, and left Dorales to tell the sorry tale in person. However, Aimes swore out warrants charging battery and other things, and sent automobiles forth to bring in Thady Shea.

Him they did not find; but they went as far as Magdalena, spreading the story as they progressed. Within three days, this immediate section of the state was in a roar of laughter; Dorales had a reputation as “the worst man to monkey with” in existence. Added to the joke was the story of Thady Shea and the axe helve, which travelled fast and far. Neither story reached the Mackintavers ranch fast enough, however.

On the afternoon following Thady Shea’s desertion of Number Sixteen, Mrs. Crump arrived there in a hired car from Silver City. She came alone; Gilbert and Lewis were in jail awaiting bail, and she came only to make sure that Number Sixteen had escaped the ravishers.

By this time Mrs. Crump knew all about what had happened to Thady Shea in Zacaton City, and how the disaster had come upon her, but she had made no comments. At the shack, she found the papers which Thady Shea had left. She read his note, and muttered something about “damned fool.” Then she took the check which he had indorsed, returned to her hired car, and before midnight was back in Silver City.

At nine the next morning the Silver City bank telephoned Sandy Mackintavers over long distance regarding a check for ten thousand dollars issued to one Thady Shea, and properly indorsed, which had been presented for payment by Mrs. Crump. Promptly and delightedly Mackintavers gave it his O. K. Quite naturally, he considered that Abel Dorales had carried his mission to success, and that Number Sixteen now belonged to the Empire State Chemical Company.

But that evening, when Dorales arrived with new tires on the flivver, Mackintavers learned what had really taken place. Then he telephoned to Silver City in all haste, only to find that he was out ten thousand big round dollars. He had gambled, and he had lost his stake.

Dorales spent a most unpleasant evening. Despite everything, even the monetary loss, which rankled to the very bottom of his soul, Mackintavers had a deep grain of humour. This was the first time he had ever known Abel Dorales to be put absolutely down and out; he gave his humour full vent until Dorales, who had no humour whatever, writhed under the lash.

“It’s your loss most of all,” growled Dorales, white lipped and venomous.

“Aiblins, yes.” Mackintavers fell grave. “We’ll leave Mrs. Crump alone for the present; never fear, I’ll get that money back, with interest! I’ve a scheme in the back of my head that will work on her a bit later. Are ye going to hide out till the laughing’s done with?”

“Hide—hell!” snarled Dorales, viciously. “The first man that laughs to my face, except you, gets something to remember. And,” he added, slowly, “I’m not so sure about excepting you, Sandy.”

“There, there, cannot ye take a joke?” returned Mackintavers, hastily. “I’ve suffered the most, but leave Mrs. Crump be for the present. I want to get the matter o’ those stone idols settled, and under cover o’ the noise it will make when I become a scientist, then we’ll take over this strontianite mine.

“I want ye to go up to Santa FÉ, and get a big sack o’ silver dollars. I’ve me eye on two or three o’ them Cochiti redskins and I think ye can bribe ’em. If——”

“What about this man Shea?” snapped Dorales. “I’m going to get him if it takes me ten years! I’m going to write my name in his hide with a knife!”

“Ye shall; he’ll be here when ye get back from Santa FÉ,” soothed Mackintavers. “He can’t hide out long, Abel. I’ll have him held for ye.”

“You’d better,” said the other, sourly. “I don’t like wasting time on these idols, anyway. I never knew any good to come of bothering the Indian gods, Sandy.”

Mackintavers only laughed, although not without a frown to follow the laugh. He was wondering if the presence of those gods in his house had brought him the loss of ten thousand dollars. He was the last man on earth to let superstition alter his plans; yet he was Scottish, and he could not help wondering—just a little.