Coravel Tio gestured toward the earth, where lay the seven stone gods sprawled in grotesque attitudes, one alone being upright, grinning stonily. But Mrs. Crump paid no heed to him or to the smiling Thomas Twofork. From the latter’s infolding arms she seized the baby with a sudden and fierce gesture.
“Where’d ye get it? Where’d Thady Shea get it?” she demanded, sharply.
Thomas Twofork, standing there in the sunlight, told his story, while Mrs. Crump fondled the baby with admiration and kindliness growing in her keen blue eyes.
Thomas Twofork had located that battered yellow suitcase at the Hotel Aragon, had seen Thady Shea depart with it—and had found the fan belt on his own car broken. While repairing it, he had become aware that Dorales was also on the trail of Shea. Dorales had started westward, and after him, Twofork.
Dorales had not gone on to St. Johns, but had followed the tracks of Murray’s car when it turned off on the trail to Old Fort Tularosa and Aragon. He had met Murray’s car returning without Thady Shea, and had hastened on into Aragon; by the time he discovered that Shea had not been here, and had exchanged his car for a horse, much time was lost.
Dorales had gone back along the trail, had picked up Shea’s track at daybreak, and had followed; after Dorales had gone Thomas Twofork, patiently unhurrying. Both men had met the ranger returning to town with the murderer, Garcia, and had learned Shea’s route.
When Dorales had fired that shot in the night, Twofork had been waiting, had seen the act too late to prevent it. Dorales had at once taken the yellow suitcase, pushing forward without delay. Thomas Twofork had found Thady Shea in the gully, creased by the bullet, but unwounded, battered by the fall but sound of wind and limb. With Shea in the saddle, holding the baby, Thomas Twofork had followed the trail of Dorales quickly and unerringly.
The remainder was briefly told. Knowing that the hogback hid all the country beyond the view of those in the cañon, Thady Shea had waited until Dorales had ridden down into the cañon, then had come on with Thomas Twofork. Unseen, the two men had arrived, had waited; at the right moment, Thady Shea had made his appearance. As Thomas Twofork told it, the whole story was very simple, all very prosaic. But to those who had waited by the shack in the cañon, it had not been simple or prosaic. It had been very tragic and very terrible.
“So work the gods!” Coravel Tio tossed away his cigarette. “Thomas Twofork, here are the gods of your fathers; they are yours to take back to Cochiti. They have brought disaster upon Mackintavers and Dorales; they have brought us good blessings. And presently will come the real Premble, señora, to buy this mine of ours.”
“What was that ye threatened Sandy about?” demanded Mrs. Crump, looking up from the baby for the first time. “That information ye mentioned?”