ld. If he left after the cook, you have
been doing him an injustice for fifteen years, seh."

Mackenzie leaned forward, excitement burning in his eyes. "Prove that,
young man, and I'll thank you to the last day of my life. It's for my
wife's sake more than my own I want my little girl back. She jes' pines
for her every day of her life. But for my friend--if you can give me
back the clean memory of Dave you'll have done a big thing for me, Mr.
O'Connor."

"It's only a working theory, but this is what I'm getting at. You and
Henderson had arranged to take an early start on a two days' deer hunt
next mo'ning. That's what you told me, isn't it?"

"We were to start about four. Yes, sir."

"Well, let's suppose a case. Along comes Dave before daybreak, when the
first hooters were beginning to call. Just as he reaches your ranch
he notices a horse slipping away in the darkness. Perhaps he hears
the little girl cry out. Anyhow, instead of turning in at the gate, he
decides to follow. Probably he isn't sure there's anything wrong, but
when he finds out how the horse he's after is burning the wind his
suspicions grow stronger. He settles down to a long chase. In the
darkness, we'll say, he loses his man, but when it gets lighter he picks
up the trail again. The tracks lead south, across the line into Mexico.
Still he keeps plodding on. The man in front sees him behind and gets
scared because he can't shake him off. Very likely he thinks it is you
on his track. Anyhow, while the child is asleep he waits in ambush, and
when Henderson rides up he shoots him down. Then he pushes on deeper
into Chihuahua, and proceeds to lose himself there by changing his
name."

"You think he murdered Dave?" The cattleman got up and began to pace up
and down the floor.

"I think it possible."

Webb Mackenzie's face was pallid, but there was a new light of hope
in it. "I believe you're right. God knows I hope so. That may sound a
horrible thing to say of my best friend, but if it has got to be one or
the other--if it is certain that my old bunkie came to his death
foully in Chihuahua while trying to save my baby, or is alive to-day,
a skulking coward and villain--with all my heart I hope he is dead." He
spoke with a passionate intensity which showed how much he had cared for
his early friend, and how much the latter's apparent treachery had cut
him. "I hope you'll never have a friend go back on you, Mr. O'Connor,
the one friend you would have