jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by being blown up by the
accidental discharge of dynamite." A sheepman was struck by lightning,
according to the coroner, and his widow had been glad to sell ranch and
sheep very cheaply to the Sawtooth and return to her relatives in
Montana. The Sawtooth had shipped the sheep within a month and turned
the ranch into another line-camp.

You will see that Senator Warfield had every reason to be sincere when
he called Al Woodruff a good man; good for the Sawtooth interests, that
means. You will also see that Brit Hunter had reasons for believing that
the business of ranching in the Sawtooth country might be classed as
extra hazardous, and for saying that it took nerve just to hang on.

That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubt
upon the best means of preserving the "integrity" of the Sawtooth and at
the same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation of
which he had complained. It was his business to find the best means. It
was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him--secretly, to be
sure--better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al was
conscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because he
particularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because the
Sawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he felt that
he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his hand against
any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and he fought
the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldier will fight
for his country. To his unimaginative mind there was sufficient
justification in that attitude. As for the ease with which he planned to
kill and cover his killing under the semblance of accident, he would
have said, if you could make him speak of it, that he was not squeamish.
They'd all have to die some day, anyway.

CHAPTER TEN

ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT"

Frank Johnson rose from the breakfast table, shaved a splinter off the
edge of the water bench for a toothpick and sharpened it carefully while
he looked at Brit.

"You goin' after them posts, or shall I?" he inquired glumly, which, by
the way, was his normal tone. "Jim and Sorry oughta git the post holes
all dug to-day. One of us better take a look through that young stock in
the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg.
Which you ruther do?"

Brit tilted his chair backward so that