nchers who were killed later on?"

Jessup's eyes widened. "Queer?" he repeated. "Why, I--I never thought
about it that way. I wasn't around when it happened. Nobody was with him
but--but--Tex." He stared at Buck. "Yuh don't mean to say--"

"I don't say anything," returned Stratton, as he paused. "How can I,
without knowing the facts? Was the horse a bad one?"

"He was new--jest been put in the _remuda_. I never saw him rid except by
Doc Peters, who's a shark. I did notice, afterward, he was sorta mean,
though I've seen worse. We was on the spring round-up, jest startin' to
brand over in the middle pasture." Bud spoke slowly with thoughtfully
wrinkled brows. "It was right after dinner when the old man rode up on
Socks, the horse he gen'ally used. He seemed pretty excited for him. He
got hold of Tex right away, an' the two of them went off to one side an'
chinned consid'able. Then they changed the saddle onto this here paint
horse, Socks bein' sorta tuckered out, an' rode off together. It was near
three hours before Tex came gallopin' back alone with word that the old
man's horse had stepped in a hole an' throwed him, breakin' his neck."

"Was that part of it true?" asked Buck, who had been listening intently.

"About his neck? Sure. They had Doc Blanchard over right away. He'd been
throwed, all right, too, from the scratches on his face."

"Where did it happen?"

"Yuh got me. I wasn't one of the bunch that brought him in. I never
thought to ask afterwards, neither. It must of been somewhere up to the
north end of the ranch, though, if they kep' on goin' the way they
started."

For a moment or two Stratton sat silent, staring absently at the sloping
bank below him. Was there anything back of the ranch-owner's tragic death
save simple accident? The story was plausible enough. Holes were
plentiful, and it wouldn't be the first time a horse's stumble had
resulted fatally to the rider. On the other hand, it is quite possible, by
an abrupt though seemingly accidental thrust or collision, to stir a horse
of uncertain temper into sudden, vehement action. At length Buck sighed
and abandoned his cogitations as fruitless. Short of a miracle, that phase
of the problem was never likely to be answered.

"I wonder what took him off like that?" he pondered aloud. "Have you any
notion? Is there anything particular up that way?"

"Why, no. Nobody hardly ever goes there. They call it the north pasture,
but it's never used. There'