The boy avenger almost shrieked as he bounded forward.
“Ah, why did I not think of it before? No, I am not certain that he is dead. Come, girl, it is not far away; there is a certain place from whence we can look down upon the gallows. The voice. Ah! I recall it now. It frightened Red Crest; it even paled my cheek, for on the spur of the moment, Myra. I thought it came from the dead man.”
The hand of the young Vigilante encircled the girl’s wrist, and a moment later the two were going up the waterless ravine.
They seemed to hold their breath us they went on, the boy slightly in the advance, and not a syllable escaped their lips until more than a mile of woodland along the top of the canyon had been traversed.
“Here at last!” exclaimed the young Vigilante, halting, and then approaching the edge of the precipice. “We are directly over the beam to which I hung Rosebud Dan.”
With eyes full of eagerness and suspense, the boy dropped his companion’s hand, and crept forward. He was almost afraid to look over the cliff. Deadly Dan might be hanging there with the secret locked in a heart as dead and cold as a stone.
Earnestly trusting otherwise, the boy lyncher shut his lips, and was about to solve all mental questions when a stern voice rung in his ears.
“Hello thar! youngster. Do you want to go over the edge o’ Cut-throat, or die whar ye ar’?”
A piercing cry fell from the girl’s lips as the boy started back, sprung erect, and wheeled quickly.