e result of a single gunplay. He had seen the schoolteacher. He
knew by instinct that there was no fighting quality in Jig. And the
moment he heard the location it was as good as cash in his pocket, he
was sure.

There was only one difficulty. He must beat out the sheriff. To that
end he hurried to the stable behind the hotel, broke all records for
speed in getting the saddle on his roan mare, and then jogged her
quietly out of town so as to rouse no suspicions. But hardly was he
past the outskirts, hardly crediting his good luck that the sheriff
himself was not yet on the way, than he touched the flanks with his
spurs and sent the mare flying west.

In the west the moon was dropping behind the upper ranges, as he rode
through the foothills; when he began to climb the side of the mountain,
the dawn began to grow. So much the better for Arizona. But, knowing
that he had only Cold Feet to deal with, he did not adopt all the
caution of Sandersen on the same trail. Instead he cut boldly straight
for the shoulder of the mountain, knowing what he would find there on
his arrival. In the nearest grove he left his horse and then walked
swiftly up to the level. There the first thing that caught his eyes was
the form wrapped in the blanket. But the next thing he saw was the pale
glimmer of the dawn on the barrel of a revolver. He reached for his own
gun, only to see, over the rock above him, the grinning face of
Sandersen arise.

"Too late, Arizona," called the tall man. "Too late for one job,
partner, but just in time for the next!"

Arizona cursed softly, steadily, through snarling lips.

"What job?"

"Sinclair! He's gone, but he'll be back any minute. And it'll need us
both to down him, Arizona. We'll split on Sinclair's reward."

Disgust and wrath consumed Arizona. Without other answer he strode to
the prostrate form, slashed the rope and tore the handkerchief from
between the teeth of Cold Feet. The schoolteacher sat up, gasping for
breath, purple of face.

"Leave him be!" cried Sandersen, his voice shrill with anger. "Leave
him be! He's the bait, Arizona, and we're the trap that'll catch
Sinclair."

But Arizona cursed again bitterly. "Leave that bait lie till the sun
burns it up. You'll never catch Sinclair with it."

"How come?"

From around the rock Sandersen appeared and walked down to the fat man.

"Because Sinclair's already caught."

If he had expected the tall man to groan with disappointment, there w