sheriff, stepping across the room, looked
for such evidence as flying lead might have left for him. In the wall
just behind the spot where Bisbee had stood were two bullet holes.
Going to the far end of the room where the chair leaned against the
table, he found that a pane of glass in the window opening upon the
street had been broken. There were no bullet marks upon wall or
woodwork.

"Bisbee shot two or three times, did he?" he cried, wheeling on the
Kid. "And missed every time? And all the bullets went through the one
hole in the window, I suppose?"

The Kid shrugged insolently.

"I didn't watch 'em," he returned briefly.

Galloway and Antone were allowed to come again into the room, and of
Galloway, quite as though no hot word had passed between them, Norton
asked quietly:

"Bisbee had a lot of money on him. What happened to it?"

"In there." Galloway nodded toward the card-room whose door had
remained closed. "In his pocket."

A few of the morbid followed as the sheriff went into the little room.
Already most of the men had seen and had no further curiosity. Norton
drew the blanket away, noted the wounds, three of them, two at the base
of the throat and one just above the left eye. Then, going through the
sheepman's pockets, he brought out a handful of coins. A few gold,
most of them silver dollars and half-dollars, in all a little over
fifty dollars.

The dead man lay across two tables drawn together, his booted feet
sticking out stolidly beyond the bed still too short to accommodate his
length of body. Norton's eyes rested on the man's boots longer than
upon the cold face. Then, stepping back to the door so that all in the
barroom might catch the significance of his words, he said sharply:

"How many men of you know where Bisbee always carried his money when he
was on his way to bank?"

"In his boots!" answered two voices together.

"Come this way, boys. Take a look at his boots, will you?"

And as they crowded about the table, sensing some new development,
Galloway pushing well to the fore, Norton's vibrant voice rang out:

"It was a clean job getting him, and a clean job telling the story of
how it happened. But there wasn't overmuch time and in the rush. . . .
Tell me, Jim Galloway, how does it happen that the right boot is on the
left foot?"

CHAPTER IV

AT THE BANKER'S HOME

Rod Norton made no arrest. Leaving the card-room abruptly he signalled
to Julius Struve, th