"I hope not. Well, then, Ramon came by and stopped to talk to me for a minute. I had to hide Artie in a box-stall and hope to God he kept quiet. He wasn't as bad as he is now. Ramon told me about you being caught, and went on. After that nothing must do but find you. He thought you might have his dope. He'd have gone into the jaws of hell after it. So I came along to keep him out of mischief."
"What are you going to do now?" asked the girl, who had kicked off her slippers and had been walking a few paces to and fro.
"I don't know, ma'am. We've got to get away."
"We?"
"You mean me, too? Yes, ma'am! I have stood with the doings of this place as long as I can stand them. Artie has told me some other things. Are you here of your free will, ma'am?" he asked, abruptly.
"No," she replied.
"I suspected as much. I'm through with the whole lot of them."
Brower opened his eyes. He was now quite calm.
"Hooper sold the Morgan stallion," he whispered, smiled sardonically, and closed his eyes again.
"Without telling me a word of it!" added Tim with heat. "He ain't delivered him yet."