fiercely. 'Whose work is this?'
The sheriff started to lower a hand but changed his mind and nodded towards the stranger. 'That fella, I guess.'
The reply came in a bitter sneer. 'Yo're guessin' is like the rest o' yore doin's--pretty triflin'. So that's why yo're all lookin' paralyzed. You fools, this man wouldn't know Dad from Adam, an' moreover, he was expectin' to ride for the Circle Dot.'
'That don't prove anythin',' the sheriff said sullenly. 'Road-agents ain't in the habit o' askin' yore name an' address afore they salivate you. Anyway, the 0I' Man could have turned him down. He was robbin' the body when we arrove.'
With shaking fingers, Dan felt in his father's pockets, and drew out the roll of bills. 'Seems to have made a pore jobof it,' he replied acidly. 'Even a beginner couldn't 'a' missed this.'
Hicks spoke: 'Do you know this fella, Dan?'
'I met him this mornin' at the Bend, an' sent him along; we're short-handed.'
The sheriff's mean eyes glittered. 'Did you arrange for yore dad to come an' meet you?' he asked.
It was a moment before the shameful implication penetrated, and then the boy leapt to his feet, fury struggling with the grief in his face, and stepped towards his traducer.
'Pull yore gun, you coyote,' he rasped.
The officer had no intention of doing anything of the kind.
'I've got my han's up, Dover,' he reminded.
Sudden had watched the scene in silence, but now he spoke:
'Yu can take 'em down, Sheriff--if--yu--wanta.'
The drawl of the last three words made them a plain insult, but Foxwell had a thick skin, and an inordinate desire to preserve it; he did not avail himself of the permission, preferring to take refuge behind his badge.
'I was app'inted to keep the peace, not break it,' he said, and looked round at his following. 'You'd think a son whose father had been bumped off would be anxious to have the guilty party brought to justice, huh?'
'I am, an' I know what he was after, an' where to seek for him,' Dover said savagely. 'So do you, an' that's why you'd like to pin it on a stranger. Don't you worry; evenin' up for Dad is somethin' I can take care of. Now, get back to yore murderin' master an' tell him that you did all you could to blot his tracks--an' failed.'
Sudden spoke again. 'They're leavin' rifles an' six-gum here,' he said quietly. 'There's a heap too much cover, an they may get notions.'
Under the threat of his levelled weapons, they let fall their pistols, wheeled and rode down the ravine. The sheriff shouter a parting:
'Rainbow will have somethin' to say 'bout this.'
'Shore, tell it how one man held up an' disarmed the four o' you,' Dover retorted. 'The town ain't had a laugh lately I'll send yore guns to Sody's; they'll know then you ain't lyin'.'
When they had vanished through the entrance to the ravin his anger evaporated, leaving only the dull ache of sorrow. In a voice hoarse with emotion, he asked:
'You ain't backin' out?'
'Not any. That imitation sheriff has got me real interested. Might as well be movin'.'
The grisly task of roping the dead rancher on the back of his pony was accomplished in silence. Then Sudden put a question:
'Yu said yu knowed what the killer wanted. D'yu reckon he got it?'
'I dunno, but likely Dad wouldn't be carryin' it. Did you see any tracks?'
'On'y that.'
He pointed to a kind of path, running at a right angle to where the dead man had lain, the sandy surface of which seemed to have been recently disturbed. Following it, they came to a bush at the side of the ravine. A white scar showed where a branch had been wrenched off, and in a moment or so they found it; the withering leaves were gritty.
'Wiped his trail out as he backed away,' Sudden commented, and scanned the slope keenly. 'He came down an' went up here--them toe an' heel marks is plain as print. I'll see if I can trace him. Yu fetch the hosses along an' meet me.'
He climbed the bank and soon found indications that someone had preceded him. Trifles which would have escaped an untrained eye--bent or bruised stems of grass, a broken twig, the impress of a foot on bare ground, were all-sufficient to enable him to follow the path of the previous visitor along the rim of the ravine. For some two hundred yards he thrust his way through the fringe of bush and came to the place he was seeking. Shadowed by a scrub-oak, and screened from below by a rampart of shrubs, was a trampled patch of grass. Two flattened hollows about a foot apart caught his eye. He knelt down in them and looked along the ravine; the spot where he had found the body was plainly visible.
'Easy as fallin' out'n a tree,' he muttered. A yellow gleam in the longer grass proved to be a cartridge shell. 'A thirty-eight--they ain't so common.'
Close by he picked up a dottle of partly-burned tobacco, tapped from the bowl of a pipe; the assassin had solaced himself with a smoke while waiting for his victim. There was nothing else, but in a nearby clump of spruce he found hoof-marks, a branch from which the bark had been nibbled, and several long grey hairs. He followed the tracks down to where they merged with many others in the main trail, and could no longer be picked out. Dover was waiting.
'Any luck?' he asked.
'Not enough to hang a dawg on,' Sudden admitted, and told of his discoveries.
'Trenton uses a pipe,' the boy said. 'Let's be goin'.'
They set out, and the sad burden on the third horse kept them silent. There was but a scant five miles to cover, most of it over open plain splotched by thorny thickets, patches of sage, and broken only by an occasional shallow arroyo. Soon they came upon bunches of cattle contentedly grazing on the short, sun-burned grass, and presently the ranch-house was in sight.
A squat building of one storey, solidly constructed of trimmed logs chinked with clay, it stood on the crest of a slope and afforded a wide view of the surrounding country. It had been erected for utility rather than elegance in the days when raiding redskins were not unknown, and save for three great cedars which provided a welcome shade, there was nothing bigger than a sage-bush for hundreds of yards all round. A little apart were the bunkhouse, outbuildings, and corrals. At the foot of the slope a double line of willows and cottonwoods told the presence of a stream. As they pulled up outside, a grizzled, bow-legged little man came out, stared, and as he recognized the laden pony, ripped out an oath.
'Hell's flames, boy, what's happened?' he demanded. Dover dismounted wearily. 'They got Dad, Burke,' he said gruffly. 'Tell you about it presently. Help me take him in.' So the rancher came home for the last time. The sad spectacle was watched by a thin-featured, sunken-eyed youth of about seventeen who had crept to the door. He shrank aside to let the bearers pass, and then swung round, facc buried in a bent arm, and shoulders shaking.
'It shore is tough luck,' Sudden consoled. 'Don't take il too hard.'
'He was mighty good ter me,' came the mumbling reply.
'We all gotta go--some time.'
'Yep, but not that way--widout a chanct,' the lad replied fiercely. 'Gawd, if I was on'y a man, 'stead of a perishin' weed, I'd cut th' hearts out o' th'--' He finished with a torrent of vitriolic expletives.
'Yu ain't got yore growth yet, son,' the puncher said.
'Growth?' the boy echoed bitterly. 'What yer givin' me? I'm a longer--one o' Gawd's mistakes what nobody wants, an' I'd 'a' croaked by now if it hadn't bin fer him.'
A violent spasm of coughing racked his spare frame.
Chapter III
A few moments later, Burke reappeared. 'Dan'll be along presently,' he began. 'He's told me about you, Mister, an' I wanta say right out that yo're mighty welcome, 'specially now. By the time we git shut o' the hosses, supper'll be ready; we got a good cook, if he is Irish.'
As they returned from the corral, carrying saddles, rifles, and blankets, the little man spoke again:
'This is a knockdown blow for Dan, he fair worshipped his dad, which goes for the rest of us. It was fear o' this happenin' sent him to the Bend. `I'm goin' to git a good man, Burke,' he told me this mornin', `one who'll put
