rying to shut from his mind the things that
wild-eyed, hoarse-voiced girl had told him.

"Lone, you mind your own business," he advised himself once. "You don't
know anything that's going to do any one any good, and what you don't
know there's no good guessing. But that girl--she mustn't talk like
that!"

Of Swan he scarcely gave a thought after the Swede had disappeared, yet
Swan was worth a thought or two, even from a man who was bent on minding
his own business. Swan had no sooner climbed the gulch toward Thurman's
claim than he proceeded to descend rather carefully to the bottom again,
walk along on the rocks for some distance and climb to the ridge whose
farther slope led down to Granite Creek. He did not follow the trail,
but struck straight across an outcropping ledge, descended to Granite
Creek and strode along next the hill where the soil was gravelly and
barren. When he had gone some distance, he sat down and took from under
his coat two huge, crudely made moccasins of coyote skin. These he
pulled on over his shoes, tied them around his ankles and went on, still
keeping close under the hill.

He reached the place where Fred Thurman lay, stood well away from the
body and studied every detail closely. Then, stepping carefully on
trampled brush and rocks, he approached and cautiously lifted Lone's
coat. It was not a pretty sight, but Swan's interest held him there for
perhaps ten minutes, his eyes leaving the body only when the blaze-faced
horse moved. Then Swan would look up quickly at the horse, seem
reassured when he saw that the animal was not watching anything at a
distance, and return to his curious task. Finally he drew the coat back
over the head and shoulders, placed each stone exactly as he had found
it and went up to the horse, examining the saddle rather closely. After
that he retreated as carefully as he had approached. When he had gone
half a mile or so upstream he found a place where he could wash his
hands without wetting his moccasins, returned to the rocky hillside and
took off the clumsy footgear and stowed them away under his coat. Then
with long strides that covered the ground as fast as a horse could do
without loping, Swan headed as straight as might be for the Thurman
ranch.

About noon Swan approached the crowd of men and a few women who stood
at a little distance and whispered together, with their faces averted
from the body around which the men stood grouped. The news had spread as