Flash had noted the papers which Moran held and his hope of escape was renewed. He had come to look on all papers as messages for him to carry. True they were both in the cabin and he did not know where this message was to go but that mattered not at all if only it afforded him an opportunity to be free of those four confining walls.
This hope died as Moran tossed both map and letter into the fire. Then Moran crossed to the door, driving a wooden peg behind the bar which wedged it shut.
“Too bad, Flash,” he sympathized. “But Betty is right. Your way is my way—but it’s not the best.”
