But, strong as he was, the unusual exertion of his
hours in the saddle, together with his racking anxiety, had told upon
muscles and nerves. His face, pale and drawn, gave the lie to his words
that he was not tired.
"You must rest, man," said Brian Oakley, shortly. "There may be days of
this ahead of us. You've got to snatch every minute, when it's possible,
to conserve your strength. You've already had more than the rest of us.
Jerk off your boots and lie down until I call you, even if you can't
sleep. Do as I say--I'm boss here."
As the artist obeyed, the Ranger continued, "I wrote the Sheriff all I
knew--and some things that I suspect. It's that automobile that sticks in
my mind--that and some other things. The machine must have left Fairlands
before you did, unless it came over through the Galena Valley, from some
town on the railroad, up San Gorgonio Pass way--which isn't likely. If it
_did_ come from Fairlands, it must have waited somewhere along the road,
to enter the canyon after dark. Do you think that any one else besides
Myra Willard and Lagrange and you know that Sibyl started up here?"
"I don't think so. The neighbor where she borrowed the horse didn't know
where she was going.
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