e men had passed, she looked
after them with an ugly expression of malice in her little pale gray
eyes.

"That's a bad face," Asher said, when they were out of her hearing. "I
wonder why she tried to hide that old salt can."

"How do you know it was a salt can?" Jacobs asked.

"Because it is exactly like a salt can I saw at Pryor Gaines' old cabin,
and because some salt fell out as she tipped it over," Asher replied.

"You have an eye for details," Jacobs returned. "That was Gretchen Gimpke,
Hans Wyker's girl. She married his bartender, and is raising a family of
little bartenders back in the hilly country there, while Gimpke helps Hans
run a perfectly respectable tavern in town."

"Well, I may misjudge her, but if I had any interest near here, I should
want her to keep on her own side of the creek," Asher declared.

And somehow both remembered the dead sheep down in the deep pool at the
foot of the hill.

The live sheep were crowding along the fence on the creek side of the big
range when the two men entered it.

"What ails the flock?" Asher asked, as they saw it following the fence
line eagerly.

"Let's ride across and meet them," Jacobs suggested.

The creek side was rough with many little dips and draws hiding the
boundary line in places. The men rode quietly toward the flock by the
shortest way. As they faced a hollow deepening to a draw toward the creek,
Asher suddenly halted.

"Look at that!" he cried, pointing toward the fence.

John Jacobs looked and saw where the ground was lowest that the barbed
wires had been dragged out of place, leaving an opening big enough for two
or more sheep to crowd through at a time. As they neared this point, Asher
said:

"It's a pretty clear case, Jacobs. See that line of salt running up the
bare ground, and here is an opening. The flock is coming down on that
line. They will have a chance to drink after taking their salt."

John Jacobs slid from his horse, and giving the rein to Asher, he climbed
through the hole in the fence and hastily examined the ground beyond it.

"It's a friendly act on somebody's part," he said grimly. "The creek cuts
a deep hole under the bank here. There's a pile of salt right at the edge.
Somebody has sprinkled a line of it clear over the hill to toll the flock
out where they will scramble for it and tumble over into that deep water.
All they need to do is to swim down to the next shallow place and wade
out. The pool may be full of the