ad.

He ran for the man who had fired them. He knew him now; it was Anton.
But, fleet of foot, the half-breed had reached the stable, where a
horse stood ready saddled. He saw him vault into the saddle, and he
saw him vanish into the adjacent woods. Then, at last, he gave up the
chase and ran back to the fallen man.

Kneeling at his side he raised the great leonine head. The man was
alive, and he shouted to the men at the bunkhouse for aid. But even as
he called Jake spoke.

"It ain't no good," he said, in a hoarse tone. "I'm done. Done up by
that lyin' son-of-a----, 'Tough' McCulloch. I might 'a' known. Guess
I flicked him sore." He paused as the sound of running feet came from
the bunkhouse and Arizona's voice was calling to know Tresler's
whereabouts. Then the foreman's great frame gave a shiver. "Quick,
Tresler," he said, in a voice that had suddenly grown faint;
"ther' ain't much time. Listen! get around Widow Dangley's
place--to-night--two--mornin' all----"

There came a rattle of flowing blood in his throat which blurred
anything else he had to say. But he had said sufficient. Tresler
understood.

When Arizona came up Jake, so long the bully of Mosquito Bend, had
passed over the One-Way Trail. He died shot in three places, twice in
the chest and once in the stomach. Anton, or rather "Tough" McCulloch,
had done his work with all the consummate skill for which he had once
been so notorious. And, as something of this flashed through Tresler's
brain, another thought came with it, prompted by the presence of
Arizona, who was now on his knees beside him.

"It's Anton, Arizona," he said. "Jake riled him. He shot him, and has
bolted through the wood, back there, mounted on one of Marbolt's
horses. He's making for the hills. Quick, here, listen! the others are
coming. You know 'Tough' McCulloch?"

"Wal?" There was an ominous ring in Arizona's voice.

"You'd like to find him?"

"Better'n heaven."

"Anton is 'Tough' McCulloch."

"Who told you?"

"Jake, here. I didn't mention it before, because--because----"

"Did you say the hills?"

Arizona had risen to his feet. There was no emotion in his manner.
They might have been discussing the most ordinary topic. Now the rest
of the men crowded round. And Tresler heard the rancher's voice
calling from the verandah to inquire into the meaning of the shots.
However, heedless of the others, he replied to the cowpuncher's
question.

"Yes," he said.

"Shake. S'lo