the door to look after her he saw her mounting the
wagon, which was drawn by the heavy team from Joan's farm, and driven
by her hired man.

As the stranger drove off he leant against the doorway and emitted a
low whistle. In his own phraseology he was "beat," completely and
utterly "beat."

But this state of things could not last long. His fertile brain could
not long remain under such a cloud of astonished confusion. He must
sort out the facts and piece them together. This he set to work on at
once.

Abandoning his work in the storeroom he went at once to the barn, and
gave orders for the dispatch of the team. And herein, for once, he
traded honestly with his visitor. He ordered his very best team to be
sent. Perhaps it was in acknowledgment of the problem she had offered
him.

Then he questioned his helpers. Here he was absolutely despotic. And
in less than half an hour he had ascertained several important facts.
He learned that a team had come in from Crowsfoot the previous
afternoon, bringing a passenger for the farm. The team had remained at
the farm, likewise the teamster. Only the fact that daylight that
morning had brought the man into camp for a supply of fodder and
provisions had supplied them with the news of his presence in the
district. This had happened before Beasley was up.

With this Beasley went back to the saloon, where his dinner was served
him in the bar. His bartender was taking an afternoon off. It was a
thoughtful meal. The man ate noisily with the aid of both knife and
fork. He had acquired all the habits of the class he had so long mixed
with. Nor was it until his plate of meat and canned vegetables had
nearly disappeared that light began to creep into his clouded brain.

He remembered that Joan had refurnished the farm. Why? Because some
one from the East, no doubt, was coming to stay with her. Who? Mother?
Aunt? Cousin? Female anyway. Female arrives. Queer-looking female.
Goes to farm. Stays one night. Comes looking for sheriff next
morning. A case of murder. No murder been done around here. Where?
East? Yes. Then there's some one here she's found--or she knows is
here--and he's wanted for murder. Who?

At this point Beasley grinned. How many might there not be on Yellow
Creek who could be so charged?

But his shrewd mind was very quick. This woman had not been into camp
until she visited him. Where had she been? In the hills--coming from
Crowsfoot. Still she might have been aware