The little town of Cottonwood was booming. Ever since an Eastern land company had decided to build a dam on Snake River a few months ago, hundreds of working men were making Cottonwood their new home. Consequently, the daily arrival of a stage coach loaded with passengers was no novelty. The last two men to step from the coach today, however, carried no baggage, and oddly enough asked no questions. One man was tall and stoop-shouldered with long arms, slouching walk and close set eyes which had long ago earned him the nickname, Monk. His companion presented a distinct contrast. Fletcher Cobb was short, heavyset, with a round, moon like face that was creased with a perpetual smile. The little man had worked hard to cultivate such a smile, and to match it with a cheerful high-pitched voice...