will ever read
it. But if you do read it, you'll come back, won't you--or write?
Please.

Your loving sister,

MARY BRANSFORD.

The Double A Ranch.

Union County, New Mexico.

Sanderson finished reading the letter. Then folding it, he shoved it
back into the envelope and gravely drew out the other letter. It bore
a later date and was in the same handwriting:

MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD,

Tucson, Arizona.

DEAR BROTHER WILL: I was so delighted to get your letter. And I am so
eager to see you. It has been such a long, long time, hasn't it?
Fifteen years, isn't it? And ten years since I even got a letter from
you!

I won't remember you, I am sure, for I am only nineteen now, and you
were only fifteen when you left home. And I suppose you have grown big
and strong, and have a deep, booming voice and a fierce-looking
mustache. Well, I shall love you, anyway. So hurry and come home.

I am sending you a telegraph money order for one thousand dollars, for
from the tone of your letter it seems things are not going right with
you. Hurry home, won't you?

With love,

Your sister,

MARY.

Sanderson finished reading the letter. He meditated silently, turning
it over and over in his hands. The last letter was dated a month
before. Evidently Bransford had not hurried.

Sanderson searched all the other pockets, and discovered nothing of
further interest. Then he stood for a long time, looking down at the
man's face, studying it, his own face expressing disapproval.

"Mebbe it's just as well that he didn't get to the Double A," he
thought, noting the coarse, brutal features of the other.

"If a girl's got ideals it's sometimes a mighty good thing the real guy
don't come along to disabuse them. William ain't never goin' to get to
the Double A."

He buried the body in a gully, then he returned to the other men.

Upon their persons he found about nine hundred dollars in bills of
small denomination. It made a bulky package, and Sanderson stored it
in his slicker. Then he mounted Streak, turned the animal's head
toward the northeast, and rode into the glaring sunshine of the morning.

CHAPTER III

"SQUARE" DEAL SANDERSON

Three days later, still traveling northeastward, Sanderson felt he must
be close to the Double A. Various signs and conclusions were
convincing.

In the first place, he had been a week on the trail, and estimating his
pace conservatively, that time should bring him