heard stories."

"You can't tell me anything against my boy. I won't stand for it," broke
out the tortured father.

The Ranger looked straight at him. "I'm goin' to tell you no harm of him
except that he kept bad company," he said gently. "I reckon you know
that already."

"Go on," commanded the father hoarsely.

"Tony followed him to the rim-rock, an' on the way they jumped up the
camper, though Alviro did not know it. At the rim-rock Rutherford met
two men. Presently another man joined them."

"Who were they?"

"Alviro isn't dead sure. He climbed up to a rock bluff back of them, but
it was still dark an' he couldn't make them out. Pretty soon Rutherford
found out they had a sack of gold. He must have found out where they got
it, too."

Underneath the deep tan of his cheeks the old-timer whitened. "So you're
tryin' to tell me that my boy was one of the gang that robbed my
messenger! An' you're askin' me to believe it on the word of a greaser
with a rope around his neck. Is that it?"

"No. They had a quarrel, but yore son bluffed 'em out. They gave the
gold to him. He saddled an' rode away with it. On his way back to town
he was murdered. So he never got a chance to turn it back to you."

The father of the man who had been killed drew a long, sobbing breath of
relief. His clenched fists slowly opened.

"Tony saw all this, did he?"

"Not all of it. Day was comin' on, an' he couldn't follow Rutherford
right away. Before he got goin' the three men saddled. They trailed
along after yore son, an' Tony a mile or so behind 'em. After awhile he
heard a shot. He took his time investigatin', because he didn't want to
stop any bullets himself. At the foot of Battle Butte he found
Rutherford. He had been shot from behind an' flung over the bluff."

The face of the cattleman twitched. "If I can lay my hands on the man or
men that did it--"

"Mebbe you can, if you'll give me time. I checked up Tony's story, an'
everywhere there was evidence to back it. He had no rifle with him, but
I picked up a shell back of some rocks a hundred yards from where yore
son must have been standin' when he was shot. The shell came from a '73.
I back-tracked to the night-camp, an' it was just like Tony had said.
Four men had been there. One left before the others. You could see the
signs where they had trailed him. Once or twice they missed his tracks
an' found 'em again. Same way with the single man followin' them. He had
taken short-c