ring down into its still shadowed depths, they
discerned what appeared like a body lying there motionless. Keith sprang
down beside it, and turned the rigid form over until the dead face was
revealed in the wan light--it was that of the red moustached Scott. He
staggered back at the recognition, barely able to ejaculate.

"Here, Sheriff! This is one of Hawley's men!"

The sheriff was bending instantly above the corpse, searching for the
truth.

"You know the fellow?"

"Yes, his name was Scott."

"Well, he's been dead some hours, at least six I should say; shot just
above the eye, and good Heavens! look here, Keith, at the size of this
bullet wound; that's no man's gun in this country--no more than a '32'
I'd say."

"Miss Waite had a small revolver. She must have shot the fellow. But why
did they leave the body here to be discovered?"

The sheriff arose to his feet, prowling about in the brightening glow of
the dawn.

"They were in a hurry to get away, and knew he wouldn't be found before
morning. A six hours' start means a good deal. They did drag him back
out of sight--look here. This was where the struggle took place, and
here is where the man fell," tracing it out upon the ground. "The girl
put up a stiff fight, too--see where they dragged her up the path. From
the footprints there must have been half a dozen in the party. Get back
out of the way, Sims, while I follow their trail."

It was plain enough, now they had daylight to assist them, and led
around the edge of the hill. A hundred feet away they came to where
horses had been standing, the trampled sod evidencing they must have
been there for some considerable time. Keith and the sheriff circled
out until they finally struck the trail of the party, which led forth
southwest across the prairie.

"Seven horses, one being led light," said the former. "That was Scott's,
probably."

"That's the whole story," replied the sheriff, staring off toward the
bare horizon, "and the cusses have at least six hours the start with
fresh horses." He turned around. "Well, boys, that takes 'em out of my
baliwick, I reckon. Some of the rest of you will have to run that gang
down."

Chapter XXXII. Fairbain and Christie

Dr. Fairbain had originally joined the searching party, fully as eager
as Keith himself to run down the renegade Hawley, but after an hour of
resultless effort, his entire thought shifted to the woman they had left
alone at the hotel. He co