t tell us. For that matter, they
mentioned prospecting along with their saddle-thieves' hunt. You
heard 'em tell Gwinne about the saddle thieves last night. But--Adam
Forbes was prospecting too. That's what he went up there for. Caney,
Weir and Hales--any one of them has just the face of a man to turn
lead into gold. There's a motive for you--a possible motive."

"More than possible. Let me think!" Johnny nursed his knee. He saw
again the cool dark windings of Redgate, the little branding fire, the
brushy pass low above him--where a foe might lurk--himself and Forbes,
clear outlined on the hillside, the letter Forbes had given him.

"H'm!" he said. "H'm! Exactly!" With a thoughtful face, he chanted a
merry little stave:

_The soapweed rules over the plain,
And the brakeman is lord of the train,
The prairie dog kneels
On the back of his heels,
Still patiently praying for rain._

"Say, Mr. Lull, isn't it a queer lay to have the county seat inland,
not on the railroad at all, like Hillsboro?"

"That's easy. Hillsboro was the county seat before there was any
railroad."

"Oh--that way? And how do you get your mail at Garfield? Does that
come from Hillsboro?"

"No. Hillsboro is the closest post office, but our mail goes to
Rincon. There's the river, you see, and no bridge. A letter takes two
days and a hundred miles to get from Garfield to Hillsboro--and it's
only twenty-five miles straight across in low water."

"I see," said Johnny.

Again he visioned the scene on the hillside, the fire, Adam Forbes,
the location papers he was to mail; he remembered Toad Hales and his
attempted betrayal of the horse camp guest; he remembered Jody Weir's
letter to Hillsboro, and how it was to be delivered. Jody Weir--and
the girl in Hillsboro post office--steady, Johnny--steady, boy! Even
so, Jody Weir could keep those location papers from reaching the
recorder!

The whole black business became clear and sure to him. And in that
same flaming moment he knew that he could not clear himself by shaming
this light lady--that he had never seen or known. To shield her fault
or folly, he must take his chance. He looked up and spread out his
hands.

"No go, Mr. Lull!" he said cheerfully. "Much obliged to you--and here
is gear enough for a cuckoo clock, but I can't make it tick. Surmise
and suspicion. Not one fact to lay hands on. Something may come out in
the trial, of course. Looks like both ends against