He had drawn his chair closer: he had taken her hands, and she noted that his own were icy cold, but steady as a rock. Their pressure soothed her infinitely.
"Joe Rix, the Pedlar, Harry Masters. They'll be at the shack at ten o'clock, but not I!"
"Murder, but a very clumsy scheme. Three men leave town and commit a murder and then expect to go undetected? Not even in the mountain desert!"
"But you don't understand, you don't understand! They're wise as foxes. They'll take no risk. They don't even leave town together or travel by the same routes. Harry Masters starts first. He rides out at eight o'clock in the morning and takes the north trail. He rides down the gulch and winds out of it and strikes for the shack at the ford. At half past eight the Pedlar starts. He goes past Sandy's place and then over the trail through the marsh. You know it?"
"Yes."
"Last of all, Joe Rix starts at nine o'clock. Half an hour between them."
"How does he go to the shack?"
"By the south trail. He takes the ridge of the hills. But they'll all be at the shack long before you and they'll shoot you down from a distance as you come up to it. Plain murder, but even for cowardly murder they daren't face you except three to one."
He was thoughtful.
"Suppose they were to be met on the way?"