straight into the air at the very word."

The Colonel laughed.

"I can believe that."

"Over there the range is going fast, and it's fight and scrap and quarrel
all the time to keep the sheep off what little there is left; and then you
ship and bottom drops out of the market as soon as your cattle are loaded.
There's nothing in it; and while I don't like sheep any better than the
Governor, there's no use in hanging on and going broke in cattle because
of a prejudice."

"Dick's stubborn,"--the Colonel nodded knowingly--"and I don't believe
he'll ever give in."

"No; I don't think he will, and I'm sorry for his sake, because he's
getting too old to worry."

"Worry? Cattle's nothing but worry!--which reminds me of what you are here
for."

"Have you any suspicions?"

"No. I don't believe I can help you any. The Injuns been good as pie since
we sent Wolf Robe over the road. Don't hardly think it's Injuns. Don't
know what to think. Might be some of these Mormon outfits going north.
Might be some of these nesters off in the hills. Might be anybody!"

"Is he an old hand?"

"Looks like it. Cuts the brand out and buries the hide." The Colonel began
pacing the floor. "Cattle-thieves are people that's got to be nipped in
the bud _muy pronto_. There ought to be a lynching on every cattle-range
once in seven years. It's the only way to hold 'em level. Down there on
the Rio Grande we rode away and left fourteen of 'em swinging over the
bluff. It's got to be done in all cattle countries, and since they've
started in here--well, a hanging is overdue by two years." The Colonel
ejected his words with the decisive click of a riot-gun.

So Dick Ralston, Jr., rode the range for the purpose of getting the lay of
the country, and, on one pretext or another, visited the squalid homes of
the nesters, but nowhere found anybody or anything in the least
suspicious. He learned of the murder of White Antelope, and of the
"queer-actin'" bug-hunter and his pal, who had been accused of it. It was
rather generally believed that McArthur was a desperado of a new and
original kind. While it was conceded that he seemed to have no way of
disposing of the meat, and certainly could not kill a cow and eat it
himself, it was nevertheless declared that he was "worth watching."

While the hangers-on at the MacDonald ranch were all known to have
records, no particular suspicion had attached to them in this instance,
because the squaw was known to kil