e said, in his
calm way that might hide a good deal of emotion beneath it. "It's just
to have something to work from,--don't mean anything in particular.
It's a funny way the law has got," he explained, "of arresting the last
man that saw a fellow alive, or the first one that sees him dead."

Jean studied this explanation dolefully. "They ought to find out the
last one that saw him alive," she said resentfully, "and arrest him,
then,--and leave dad out of it. There's no sense in the law, if that's
the way it works."

"Well, I didn't make the law," Lite observed, in a tone that made Jean
look up curiously into his face.

"Why don't they find out who saw him last?" she repeated. "Somebody
did. Somebody must have gone there with him. Lite, do you know that
Art Osgood came into town with his horse all in a lather of sweat, and
took the afternoon train yesterday? I saw him. I met him square in
the middle of the street, and he didn't even look at me. He was in a
frightful hurry, and he looked all upset. If I was the law, I'd leave
dad alone and get after Art Osgood. He acted to me," she added
viciously, "exactly as if he were running away!"

"He wasn't, though. Jim told me Art was going to leave yesterday; that
was in the forenoon. He's going to Alaska,--been planning it all
spring. And Carl said he was with Art till Art left to catch the
train. Somebody else from town here had seen him take the train, and
asked about him. No, it wasn't Art."

"Well, who was it, then?"

Never before had Lite failed to tell Jean just what she wanted to know.
He failed now, and he went away as though he was glad to put distance
between them. He did not know what to think. He did not want to think.
Certainly he did not want to talk, to Jean especially. For lies never
came easily to the tongue of Lite Avery. It was all very well to tell
Jean that he didn't know who it was; he did tell her so, and made his
escape before she could read in his face the fear that he did know. It
was not so easy to guard his fear from the keen eyes of his fellows,
with whom he must mingle and discuss the murder, or else pay the
penalty of having them suspect that he knew a great deal more about it
than he admitted.

Several men tried to stop him and talk about it, but he put them off.
He was due at the ranch, he said, to look after the stock. He didn't
know a thing about it, anyway.

Lazy A coulee, when he rode into it, seemed to wear alr