oin'."

They rode on down the valley. The trail was plain, and the tracks of
horses in the vanishing light snow. They strung along at a steady jog.

From the left, clean and sharp came the vibrant crash of a rifle shot.
Instantly the hills took it up, flinging it in echoes back and forth.
But with the echoes came other shots, not clear but blunt, muffled,
multiplying the riot of sound. They jerked their horses to a standstill.

"Not more 'n a mile away," said Rennie. "Them boys is further ahead. It
can't be them."

"We'll darn soon see," said Bush.

They turned in the direction of the shots, spreading out riding slowly.
And presently they came upon a pony standing with dropped reins.

"Why," Turkey exclaimed, "it's Paul Sam's! I'd know that cayuse
anywhere."

There was no mistaking the calico pony. Angus, too recognized it. If
Paul Sam were there it could be but for one purpose.

"Ride slow," Bush advised. "We don't want to overlook anything."

But in less than five hundred yards they came upon tragedy. Paul Sam and
Blake lay as they had fallen. In the background a gaunt horse raised his
head for a moment from his browsing.

They dismounted, ringing the prostrate figures around. Bush removed his
hat, not out of respect for the dead, but to scratch his head.

"Gosh!" he observed inadequately. Rennie loosened the old fingers from
the knife haft and made a swift examination. He picked up a rifle
cartridge, unexploded, with the cap faintly dinted.

"Missed fire!" he said. "Then Blake took the gun away from him and went
for his six-shooter and the old man went for his knife. Lord!"

Angus said nothing. He felt he had been defrauded, hardly used. By day
and by night one vision had haunted him--Faith's soft throat, bruised
and discolored. Just so he had made up his mind to kill Blake, with his
hands, repaying him measure for measure. His disappointment was bitter.

"The old man beat you to it," said Rennie, "but I guess he had the right
to, if he could."

Angus nodded. It was true enough. But Turkey was picking up the
scattered money which Blake had let fall. It opened a field for
speculation. No doubt this was some of Braden's money, and the brothers
had divided with Blake. But why had Blake quit them? Bush made a shrewd
guess.

"Blake wasn't no game bird," he said. "He'd quit any time rather than go
to a show-down. Mabbe that was what he was tryin' to do."

"And bumped into one," said Rennie. "But I wonde