ht and left, see. But they're
cute--they're _damn_ cute. We been trying to work up the case on the
outside, and it seemed like somebody in the Black Rim was sending
stock out, and so I've been working on this end. Now here's the data.
I followed 'em, and I've got the dope. I know now how they work it,
and my evidence and this dope here, that can be verified later on when
the time comes, will put the whole bunch over the road, see. They're
outlaws--always have been--but they won't be by the time they get outa
the pen."

"You better keep that," Lance cut in gruffly. "Man, that's nothing you
want to be gabbling to a stranger. Shut up, and let me put you on my
horse."

"No, I want to tell yuh," Burt insisted with all the obstinacy of a
man half crazy with pain and whisky. "I want to tell yuh, and I'm
going to tell yuh! Get down here and listen. Here's a map, and here's
the brands they worked, and here's how they worked 'em. And here's the
dates."

On one knee Lance kneeled and listened, his jaws set hard together.
Fast as the man talked the thoughts of Lance flew ahead, snatched at
the significance of every detail, every bit of evidence. Some things
puzzled Burt Brownlee, but Lance knew the answer to the puzzle while
Burt talked and talked. Finally he laid his hand over the finely
traced maps that showed secret trails, unguessed, hidden little draws
where stolen stock had been concealed, all the fine threads that would
weave the net close around the Lorrigans.

"Here, put that stuff up. This is not getting you to a doctor, and
this can wait. Put it up."

"No, you take it. And if I don't pull through, you turn it in. You
keep it. I don't want to be found dead with that dope on _me_--you
can't tell who might get hold of it." He thrust the papers and the
book eagerly into Lance's unwilling hand.

"No-o, you can't tell who might get hold of it," Lance admitted,
biting his lip. "Well, let me take your riding outfit off this horse
and then we'll go."

While he pulled saddle and bridle off the dead horse, Burt Brownlee
talked and talked and talked. He wanted more whisky, which Lance
promised him he should have when he was ready to get on the horse. He
told further evidence against the Devil's Tooth, told how he had
followed Tom for two days only to see him later at the ranch where he
had returned while Burt had for a time lost the trail. On that trip,
he said, he would have gotten the full details of one "job" had he not