Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk before which Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter--the letter young Bransford had written to his father about a year before.
"We've still got a chance," he told Silverthorn.

And then he told the latter of his suspicions about Sanderson.
Silverthorn's eyes gleamed.

"That's possible," he said, "but how are you going to prove it ?" "There's a way," returned Dale.

He went to the door, and shouted the names of two men, standing in the doorway until they came--the two men who had accompanied him that morning.

He spoke to them, briefly: "You're ridin' straight to Tucson as fast as your cayuses can take you.
You ought to make it in a week.