ng those moments. At first he had looked for his
own telltale knife. But evidently it had been removed. There was no
sign of its hideous projecting handle as he had last seen it. Neither
had he noticed any one bearing his blood-stained handkerchiefs. He
thought that Doc Crombie had possessed himself of these things, and
expected he would produce them at the proper moment.

Somehow he felt a curious regret that Will was dead. It was not a
mawkish sentimentality; he made no pretension, even to himself, that
the regard that had once been his for Will still existed. But he was
sorry. Sorry that the man's road had carried him to such disaster. He
remembered Peter's definition of the one-way trail. Will's path had
certainly been a hard one, and he had traveled every inch of it
with--well, he had traveled it.

Then came the thought, the ironical thought, that after all their
paths were not so very wide apart now. They had grown up together, and
now, at the end, in spite of everything, death was bringing them very
near together again.

But his reflections were cut short by the sharp voice of the doctor.
His authority was once more undisputed. He stood out in the centre of
the room, a lean, harsh figure. His eagle face, with its luminous
eyes, was full of power, full of a stern purpose.

"Folks," he began, "murder has been done--sheer, bloody murder. When
fellers gits busy with guns, an' each has his chance, an' one of 'em
gits it bad, we call that killing. Fair, square killing, an' I guess
we treat it accordin'. But this is low-down murder. We was told it was
a stabbing, but I've cast my eyes over the body, an' I seem to see a
different story. Judging by what I found, I'd say Will Henderson was
hit a smashin' blow by something heavy, which must sure 'a' knocked
him senseless, an' then the lousy skunk did the rest of his work with
a knife. Gents, I allow this murder was the work of a dirty, cowardly,
mean-spirited skunk who hadn't the grit to face his enemy decently
with a gun, and who doesn't need a heap of mercy when we get him.
That's how I read the case. All of you have seen the body, so I need
say no more on this."

Then he turned his keen eyes on Jim Thorpe, who had listened closely.

"You, Jim Thorpe, brought us word of this doing. An' in the interests
of justice to his widow, to your feller citizens, your duty's clear.
You got to tell us right here everything you know about Will
Henderson's death."

There was an