e timbered slope above the town, climbing rapidly
afoot with the distant peaks and ridges as his guide.

Some two hours after dawn he sat on the crest of a high ridge watching
a rider come up the winding trail from eastward. He had seen other
riders going in both directions from his concealment behind a screen
of cedar bushes. He had watched them with no interest other than that
exhibited by a whimsical smile. But he did not smile as he watched
this rider. His eyes became keenly alert; his face was grim. His mind
was made up.

When the rider was nearing his ambush, Rathburn quickly scanned the
empty stretch of trail to westward, then leaped down and confronted
the horseman.

Ed Lamy drew rein with an exclamation of surprise.

"There's not much time, an' I don't hanker to be seen--afoot," said
Rathburn quickly. "Where's my horse?"

"He's in a pocket on a shale slope this side of the timber on a line
from the house where you left him," replied Lamy readily. "Or you can
have mine."

"Don't want him," said Rathburn curtly. "You going in to see the
sheriff?"

Lamy nodded. "His orders. Say, Coyote----"

"He'll probably meet you on the way," Rathburn interrupted with a
sneer. "You can be figurin' out what to say to him. My saddle with the
horse?"

"It's hanging from a tree where you go into the pocket. Big limestone
cliffs there below the shale. Say, Coyote, my sister an' kid brother
was tellin' me about your visit that morning, an' I guess I
understand----"

"We can't stand here talkin'," Rathburn broke in, pulling the tobacco
sack from his shirt pocket. He extracted a folded piece of paper.
"Here's a note I wrote you in jail before I left. Read it on the way
in when there's no one watching you. Maybe you'll learn something from
it; maybe you won't. I expect you wanted money to fix that ranch up;
but you'll get further by doing a little irrigating from up that
stream than by trying to be a bandit. You just naturally ain't cut out
for the part!"

With these words he handed Lamy the note and bounded back up the
slope. The screen of cedar bushes closed behind him as Lamy pushed on,
looking back, wondering and confused, with heightened color in his
face.

It was late that night when Lamy returned to the little ranch house.
Frankie had gone to bed, but his sister was waiting up for him with a
meal and hot tea ready.

He talked to his sister in a low voice while he ate. When he had
finished he read the note for