yet," Art hazarded nervously, while they watched
her. "But that's where he put it, all right. I saw him."

Jean's fingers went groping into the pocket, stayed there for a second
or two, and came out holding a folded envelope.

"That's it!" Art leaned toward her eagerly. "That's the one, all
right."

Jean sat down suddenly because her knees seemed to bend under her
weight. Three years--and that letter within her reach all the time!

"Let's see, Jean." Lite reached out and took it from her nerveless
fingers. "Maybe it won't amount to anything at all."

Jean tried to hold herself calm. "Read it--out loud," she said. "Then
we'll know." She tried to smile, and made so great a failure of it
that she came very near crying. The faint crackle of the cheap paper
when Lite unfolded the letter made her start nervously. "Read it--no
matter--what it is," she repeated, when she saw Lite's eyes go rapidly
over the lines.

Lite glanced at her sharply, then leaned and took her hand and held it
close. His firm clasp steadied her more than any words could have
done. Without further delay or attempt to palliate its grim
significance, he read the note:

Aleck:

If Johnny Croft comes to you with anything about me, kick him off the
ranch. He claims he knows a whole lot about me branding too many
calves. Don't believe anything he tells you. He's just trying to make
trouble because he claims I underpaid him. He was telling Art a lot of
stuff that he claimed he could prove on me, but it's all a lie. Send
him to me if he comes looking for trouble. I'll give him all he wants.

Art found a heifer down in the breaks that looks like she might have
blackleg. I'm going down there to see about it. Maybe you better ride
over and see what you think about it; we don't want to let anything
like that get a start on us.

Don't pay any attention to Johnny. I'll fix him if he don't keep his
face shut.

CARL.

"Carl!" Jean repeated the name mechanically. "Carl."

"I kinda thought it was something like that," Art Osgood interrupted
her to say. "Now you know that much, and I'll tell you just what I
know about it. It was Carl shot Crofty, all right. I rode over with
him to the Lazy A; I was on my way to town and we went that far
together. I rode that way to tell you good-by." He looked at Jean
with a certain diffidence. "I kinda wanted to see you before I went
clear outa the country, bu