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Updated: June 12, 2025
Forty-two miles south-west of Angels, at a point where all further progress seems definitely barred by the huge barrier of the great mountain range, the Red Butte Western, having picked its devious way to an apparent cul-de-sac among the foot-hills and hogbacks, plunges abruptly into the echoing canyon of the Eastern Timanyoni.
But there are men here in Angels who hint that Hallock killed the woman and sunk her body in the Timanyoni." "Heavens!" exclaimed Lidgerwood, under his breath. "I can't believe that, Mac." "I don't know as I do, but I can tell you a thing that I do know, Mr. Lidgerwood: Hallock is a devil out of hell when it comes to paying a grudge.
But over across the Timanyoni, nearly opposite the mouth of the Gloria, there is a little creek coming in from the north, and on this creek I found a lone prospector a queer old chap who hails from my neck of woods up in Michigan." "Go on," said Lidgerwood, when the engineer stopped to light his pipe. "The old man told me a fairy tale, all right," Benson went on.
And two minutes later the one-car train, with the foaming torrent of the Timanyoni for its pathfinder, plunged between the narrow walls of the upper canyon, and the race down the grade of the crooked water-trail through the heart of the mountains began.
His hands were no longer trembling when he once more wound the crank of the telephone and held the receiver to his ear. There was an answering skirl of the bell, and then a voice said: "Hello! This is Goodloe: what's wanted?" Judson wasted no time in explanations. "This is Judson John Judson. Get Timanyoni on your wire, quick, and catch Mr. Lidgerwood's special.
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