ficer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of the
dying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he lowered
the head again to the pillow.

Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?"

The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye.

"Left--hours ago,"

Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Prince
recalled him from the doze into which he was slipping.

"Did you kill Homer Webb?"

"Yes."

"Had Clanton anything to do with it?"

"No."

A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billie
adjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do no
more for him at present and he must set about his work. For though the
net of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most of
those engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his job
would not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped.

He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers had
been here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie was
accounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered the
place where they had been sleeping.

His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor.
He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of these
showed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. The
other presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distance
between the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away in
breathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by some
premonition, pursuing him in reckless haste.

The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Two
men, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in a
desperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion of
the other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try to
slip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. If
he could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would be
no proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripe
for tragedy.

In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinister
that had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down his
spine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chill
that only a little while ago had been warm with life.

Prince recognized