getting them in bad with their neighbours. Gully--he
doesn't care a d----n for any of 'em, though. He'll sit on any case.
It's a good thing to have a man who's absolutely independent, like that.
I sure have known some spineless rotters. No, we might have a worse J.P.
than Gully."

"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Redmond thoughtfully, "may be he's all
right, but, somehow . . . the man's a kind of 'Doctor Fell' to me--has
been--right from the first time I 'mugged' him. Chances are though, that
it's only one of those false impressions a fellow gets. What's up?"

Yorke, shading his eyes from the cutting wind was staring ahead down the
long vista of trail. "Talk of the Devil!" he muttered, "why! here the
---- comes!" Aloud, he called out to Slavin. "Oh, Burke! here comes
Gully--riding like hell, I know that Silver horse of his."

And, far-off as yet, but rapidly approaching them at a gallop, they
beheld a rider.

"Sure is hittin' th' high spots," remarked the sergeant wonderingly,
"fwhat th' divil's up now?"

Gradually the distance lessened between them and presently Gully, mounted
upon a splendid, powerfully-built gray, checked his furious pace and
reined in with an impatient jerk, a few lengths from the police team.
Redmond could not help noticing that Gully, for a heavy man, possessed a
singularly-perfect seat in the saddle, riding with the sure, free,
unconscious grace of an _habitue_ of the range. He was roughly dressed
now, in overalls, short sheepskin coat, and "chaps."

He shouted a salutation to the trio, his usually immobile face
transformed into an expression of scowling anxiety. "Hullo!" he boomed,
his guttural bass sounding hoarse with passion, "You fellows didn't meet
that d----d hobo on the trail, I suppose? . . . I'm looking for him--in
the worst way!"

He flung out of saddle and strode alongside the cutter. "About two hours
ago--'not more, I'll swear--I pulled out to take a ride around the
cattle--like I usually do, every day. I left the beggar busy enough,
bucking fire-wood. I wasn't away much over an hour, but when I got back
I found he'd drifted--couldn't locate him anywhere.

"Then I remembered I'd left some money lying around--inside the drawer of
a bureau in my bedroom--'bout a hundred, I guess--in one of these
black-leather bill-folders. Sure enough, it's gone, too. Damnation!"

He leaned up against the cutter and mopped his streaming forehead. "I
was a fool to ever attempt to h