cattle had been
driven out of it across the oval. There were no tracks pointing the
other way. It had been in his mind that Oldring had driven the red herd
toward the rendezvous, and not from it. Where did that broad trail come
down into the pass, and where did it lead? Venters knew he wasted
time in pondering the question, but it held a fascination not easily
dispelled. For many years Oldring's mysterious entrance and exit to
Deception Pass had been all-absorbing topics to sage-riders.

All at once the dog put an end to Venters's pondering. Ring sniffed the
air, turned slowly in his tracks with a whine, and then growled. Venters
wheeled. Two horsemen were within a hundred yards, coming straight at
him. One, lagging behind the other, was Oldring's Masked Rider.

Venters cunningly sank, slowly trying to merge into sage-brush. But,
guarded as his action was, the first horse detected it. He stopped
short, snorted, and shot up his ears. The rustler bent forward, as if
keenly peering ahead. Then, with a swift sweep, he jerked a gun from its
sheath and fired.

The bullet zipped through the sage-brush. Flying bits of wood struck
Venters, and the hot, stinging pain seemed to lift him in one leap.
Like a flash the blue barrel of his rifle gleamed level and he shot
once--twice.

The foremost rustler dropped his weapon and toppled from his saddle, to
fall with his foot catching in a stirrup. The horse snorted wildly and
plunged away, dragging the rustler through the sage.

The Masked Rider huddled over his pommel slowly swaying to one side, and
then, with a faint, strange cry, slipped out of the saddle.

CHAPTER V. THE MASKED RIDER

Venters looked quickly from the fallen rustlers to the canyon where the
others had disappeared. He calculated on the time needed for running
horses to return to the open, if their riders heard shots. He waited
breathlessly. But the estimated time dragged by and no riders appeared.
Venters began presently to believe that the rifle reports had not
penetrated into the recesses of the canyon, and felt safe for the
immediate present.

He hurried to the spot where the first rustler had been dragged by his
horse. The man lay in deep grass, dead, jaw fallen, eyes protruding--a
sight that sickened Venters. The first man at whom he had ever aimed a
weapon he had shot through the heart. With the clammy sweat oozing
from every pore Venters dragged the rustler in among some boulders and
covered him wi