at the first saloon he entered. They were
returned to him when he called for them just before leaving town. This
tended to lessen the number of sudden deaths.

"Who you ridin' for, young fellow?" asked the sallow man of Roberts.

"For the A T O."

The dark young man turned and looked at the cowboy.

"So? How long have you been riding for Wadley?"

"Nine months."

"Don't think I've seen you before."

"I'm a line-rider--don't often get to the ranch-house."

"What ground do you cover?"

"From Dry Creek to the rim-rock, and south past Box Canon."

Three pair of eyes were focused watchfully on Roberts. The sallow man
squirted tobacco at a knot in the floor and rubbed his bristly chin with
the palm of a hand.

"Kinda lonesome out there, ain't it?" he ventured.

"That's as how you take it. The country _is_ filled with absentees,"
admitted Roberts.

"Reckoned it was. Never been up that way myself. A sort of a bad-lands
proposition, I've heard tell--country creased with arroyos, packed with
rocks an' rattlesnakes mostly."

The heavy-set man broke in harshly. "Anybody else run cattle there
except old man Wadley?"

"Settlers are comin' in on the other side of the rim-rock. Cattle drift
across. I can count half a dozen brands 'most any day."

"But you never see strangers."

"Don't I?"

"I'm askin', do you?" The voice of the older man was heavy and dominant.
It occurred to Roberts that he had heard that voice before.

"Oh!" Unholy imps of mirth lurked in the alert eyes of the line-rider.
"Once in a while I do--last Thursday, for instance."

The graceful, dark young man straightened as does a private called to
attention. "A trapper, maybe?" he said.

The cowboy brought his level gaze back from a barefoot negro washing the
floor. "Not this time. He was a rustler."

"How do you know?" The high voice of the questioner betrayed
excitement.

"I caught him brandin' a calf. He waved me round. I beat him to the Box
Canon and saw him ridin' through."

"You saw him ridin' through? Where were you?" The startled eyes of the
dark young man were fixed on him imperiously.

"From the bluff above."

"You don't say!" The voice of the heavy man cut in with jeering irony.
The gleam of his jade eyes came through narrow-slitted lids. "Well, did
you take him back to the ranch for a necktie party, or did you bury him
in the gulch?"

The dark young man interrupted irritably. "I'm askin' these questions,
Dinsmore. Now you