ong distance, Lane's voice addressing him.

"We've got it on you, Hull. Come through an' come clean."

"I--I--I swear to God I didn't do it--didn't kill him," he gasped at
last.

"Then who did--yore wife?" demanded Olson.

"Neither of us. I--I'll tell you-all the whole story."

"Do you know who did kill him?" Kirby persisted.

"I come pretty near knowing but I didn't see it done."

"Who, then?"

"Yore cousin--James Cunningham."

CHAPTER XXXVII

ON THE GRILL

In spite of the fact that his mind had at times moved toward his cousin
James as the murderer, Kirby experienced a shock at this accusation.
He happened to glance at Olson, perhaps to see the effect of it upon
him.

The effect was slight, but it startled Kirby. For just an instant the
Dry Valley farmer's eyes told the truth--shouted it as plainly as words
could have done. He had expected that answer from Hull. He had
expected it because he, too, had reason to believe it the truth. Then
the lids narrowed, and the man's lip lifted in a sneer of rejection.
He was covering up.

"Pretty near up to you to find some one else to pass the buck to, ain't
it?" he taunted.

"Suppose you tell us the whole story, Hull," the Wyoming man said.

The fat man had one last flare of resistance. "Olson here says he seen
me crack Cunningham with the butt of my gun. How did he see me? Where
does he claim he was when he seen it?"

"I was standin' on the fire escape of the Wyndham across the
alley--about ten or fifteen feet away. I heard every word that was
said by Cunningham an' yore wife. Oh, I've got you good."

Hull threw up the sponge. He was caught and realized it. His only
chance now was to make a clean breast of what he knew.

"Where shall I begin?" he asked weakly, his voice quavering.

"At the beginning. We've got plenty of time," Kirby replied.

"Well, you know how yore uncle beat me in that Dry Valley scheme of
his. First place, I didn't know he couldn't get water enough. If he
give the farmers a crooked deal, I hadn't a thing to do with that.
When I talked up the idea to them I was actin' in good faith."

"Lie number one," interrupted Olson bitterly.

"Hadn't we better let him tell his story in his own way?" Kirby
suggested. "If we don't start any arguments he ain't so liable to get
mixed up in his facts."

"By my way of figurin' he owed me about four to six thousand dollars he
wouldn't pay," Hull went on. "I tried to get him