He had dropped the hand which he had taken, and Myra, the girl, saw him go forward and halt before the six marks on the wall.
For several moments he stood there with an uneasy expression of countenance, then, as if directed by some impulse of passion, he drew a piece of chalk from his pocket, and added another stroke to the singular collection.
Myra noticed that the last mark was longer than the others.
“A special enemy!” she said to herself. “I wonder if he met the Canyon Monster? No, no! he was surrounded by his Thugs.”
Almost abruptly the boy Vigilante turned upon the girl; the piece of chalk still in his hand.
“One more, Myra!” he exclaimed. “Do you not see that the last mark is the longest one on the wall? Ah! girl, I met an old foe to-night; but—if he had divulged a secret which I believe he held, there would be no mark there, although I hated him with all my heart.”
“A secret! a secret!” cried the girl. “Whom did it concern?”
“Me!”
“You, Hal? Why, I always thought I was the best subject for a secret—or some such mystery like they have in novels. What do you think the dead man’s secret was?”
The boy shook his head; he was troubled.