without frills or mental reservations, and silences that
carried their thoughts forward to the next utterance.

"Al can take the outfit and drift," said Tom, as though he were
discussing some detail of the round-up. "He knows where--and they can
scatter, I'll give 'em a horse apiece as a--a kinda bonus. I'll have
to stay, looks like. Fall round-up's coming on."

"Wel-ll," said Lance, throwing an arm over a rail and drumming with
his fingers, "I was raised on round-ups. I don't suppose I've
forgotten all about it. You might turn the management over to me for a
year or so, and take a trip. Belle needs it, dad. I think I could keep
things riding along, all right."

"Sounds kinda like you had that idea for a joker up your sleeve," Al
observed meaningly. "Are you plumb sure of that dope, Lance?"

Lance removed his arm from the corral rail, and reached into his
pocket. "I didn't think you had it in you, Al, to be that big a fool.
But since you've said it, here's the dope. Take it, dad. I said I'd
turn it in, but I didn't say who'd receive it. The stock detective
that's been camping on your trail for the last few weeks was killed on
the Lava Beds to-day. I found him. He's at Conley's, now, waiting for
the coroner. You might ride over, Al, and see for yourself. And on the
way, you might ride up the Slide trail and take a look around the
Tooth. You'll see signs where he's watched the ranch from up there.
And you can go on down and find where he camped several times at
Cottonwood Spring.

"The coroner won't get on the job before to-morrow or next day, and it
will take a little time, I suppose, for Brownlee's employers to wake
up and wonder what became of the evidence he was sent to collect.
You'll have, perhaps, a week in which to make your getaway. They're
waiting outside the Rim for the evidence this Burt Brownlee was
collecting, so that they could make one big clean-up.

"I'm not setting myself up as a judge, or anything like that--but--well,
the going's good, right now. It may not be so good if you wait."

He lighted a match and held it up so that Tom could glance at the
maps and skim the contents of the memorandum book. By the blaze of the
match Lance's face still looked rather hard, determined to see the
thing through.

"You'd better burn that stuff, dad. And in the morning--how would
it be if we went to town and got the legal end of my new job
straightened out! I'll want a Power of Attorney. You may be gone
for