"Well?" the engineer encouraged.

"When I reached there, I heard a dog whining."

Bryant stiffened.

"I left my dog Mike behind," said he.

"The sound was really more like a moaning," she went on. "At first I
could see nothing, but when I looked everywhere I found that it came
from one of the three cottonwood trees. Somebody had hurt him, and the
poor creature was suffering terribly. I--I can hardly tell what had
been done to him!" And she shuddered.

"Mike! They've killed my dog Mike!"

"They nailed him to a cottonwood tree. A nail through each leg. A
nail through his throat. Nails through his body. They had crucified
him. And, oh, his pitiful eyes!"

Lee Bryant stood perfectly still and quiet. Dave was frozen and
horrified. Both gazed fixedly across the mesa to where the cottonwoods
could be seen.

"Is Mike alive yet?" Bryant asked presently, in an unsteady voice.

"No; not now. I found a piece of iron and hammered the nails free.
Then I lifted him down and carried him to the creek and washed his
wounds. But he died. I see his eyes yet, looking up at me." For a