sank
slowly back--his eyes wide and staring, but unseeing.

Ferguson looked sharply at Miss Radford, who was suddenly bending over
the prostrate man, her head on his breast. She arose after a little,
tears starting to her eyes.

"He has gone," she said slowly.

CHAPTER XV

A FREE HAND

It was near midnight when Ferguson rode in to the Two Diamond
ranchhouse leading Rope's pony. He carefully unsaddled the two animals
and let them into the corral, taking great pains to make little noise.
Rope's saddle--a peculiar one with a high pommel bearing a silver plate
upon which the puncher's name was engraved--he placed conspicuously
near the door of the bunkhouse. His own he carefully suspended from
its accustomed hook in the lean-to. Then, still carefully, he made his
way inside the bunkhouse and sought his bunk.

At dawn he heard voices outside and he arose and went to the door.
Several of the men were gathered about the step talking. For an
instant Ferguson stood, his eyes roving over the group. Tucson was not
there. He went back into the bunkhouse and walked casually about,
taking swift glances at the bunks where the men still slept. Then he
returned to the door, satisfied that Tucson had not come in.

When he reached the door again he found that the men of the group had
discovered the saddle. One of them was saying something about it.
"That ain't just the way I take care of my saddle," he was telling the
others; "leavin' her out nights."

"I never knowed Rope to be that careless before," said another.

Ferguson returned to the bunkhouse and ate breakfast. After the meal
was finished he went out, caught up Mustard, swung into the saddle, and
rode down to the ranchhouse door. He found Stafford in the office.
The latter greeted the stray-man with a smile.

"Somethin' doin'?" he questioned.

"You might call it that," returned Ferguson. He went inside and seated
himself near Stafford's desk.

"I've come in to tell you that I saw some rustlers workin' on the herd
yesterday," he said.

Stafford sat suddenly erect, his eyes lighting interrogatively.

"It wasn't Ben Radford," continued Ferguson, answering the look.
"You'd be surprised if I told you. But I ain't tellin'--now. I'm
waitin' to see if someone else does. But I'm tellin' you this: They
got Rope Jones."

Stafford's face reddened with anger. "They got Rope, you say?" he
demanded. "Why, where--damn them!"

"Back of the ridge about f