ng."

The two men gripped and Arizona faded away in the uncertain light, in
the direction of the barn.

And the dead Jake was borne by rough but gentle hands into his own
shack. And there was not one amongst those "boys" but would have been
ready and eager to help him, if help had been possible. Even on the
prairie death atones for much that in life is voted intolerable.

CHAPTER XXI

AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S

Inside the hut, where Jake had so long been master, the boys were
grouped round the bunk on which their old oppressor was laid out; the
strong, rough fellows were awed with the magnitude of the outrage.
Jake, Jake Harnach, the terror of the ranch, "done up." The thought
was amazing. Tresler was quietly stripping clothes from the dead man's
upper body to free the wounds for the doctor's inspection, and Raw
Harris was close beside him. It was while in the midst of this
operation that the former came upon another wound. Raw Harris also saw
it, and at once drew his attention.

"Guess I heerd four shots," he said. "Say, that feller Anton was a
daddy. Four of 'em, an' all found their mark. I 'lows this one's on'y
a graze. Might 'a' bin done wi' a knife, et's so clean. Yes, sirree,
he was a daddy, sure."

As no one seemed inclined to contradict the statement that Anton was a
"daddy," and as the question of four shots or three was of no vital
interest to the onlookers, the matter passed unheeded. Only Tresler
found food for reflection. That fourth wound he knew had not been
inflicted by the half-breed. He remembered the rancher's knife and
its dripping point, and he remembered Jake's cry, "You would, would
you!" He needed no other explanation.

While the two men were still bending over their task there was a
slight stir at the open door. The silent onlookers parted, leaving a
sort of aisle to the bedside, and Julian Marbolt came shuffling his
way through them, heralded by the regular tap, tap, of his guiding
stick.

It was with many conflicting emotions that Tresler looked round when
he heard the familiar sound. He stared at the man as he might stare at
some horrid beast of prey, fascinated even against himself. It would
have been hard to say what feeling was uppermost with him at the
moment. Astonishment, loathing, expectation, and even some dread, all
struggled for place, and the combination held him silent, waiting for
what that hateful presence was to bring forth. He could have found it
in his heart to