"Just what was to be expected," replied John Berwick; "you might just as well try to get water out of the Sahara as information out of Herr Fritz. He would give the devil a meal as quick as he would a parson and ask no questions for conscience' sake. You would never find out that he had ever entertained either. That's business with that class, you know."
"Business be hanged, then!" exclaimed Jim hotly. "I bet anything that the poor man we found murdered in the gulch up here did get a meal from him."
"Certainly," replied the engineer coolly; "and what's more, he knows a whole lot about the gang that infests that castle on the cliff."
"Well, the old clam can keep his information," remarked Jim. "I propose to find out for myself what these rascals are up to. That's the only way."
"You are right there, Jim," replied Berwick.
"We want to go a little careful now," remarked Jim, as they came to the mouth of Dead Man's Gulch.
Noiselessly the two comrades climbed up the dark cleft, over the slippery rocks, until Jim came to a halt.
"That man isn't here now, John," he said in a low voice.
"They've sneaked him off while we were below," remarked the engineer. "It behooves us to be on the lookout."
Somehow, the disappearance of the body of the dead man seemed to give a sense of danger that was everywhere present in the darkness, as if their enemies, though elusive, were near at hand.