lighted and he saw several men masked with bandannas. "The old man's
done for," said one of them, stooping to look at Annersley. Another
picked up the two empty shells from Annersley's rifle. "Where's the
kid?" asked another. "Here, in the corner," said a cowboy. "Must 'a'
been him that got Wright and Bradley. The old man only cut loose
twict--afore the kid come. Look at this!" And dragging Young Pete to
his feet, the cowboy took the carbine from him and pointed to the three
thirty-thirty shells on the cabin floor.

The men were silent. Presently one of them laughed. Despite Pete's
terror, he recognized that laugh. He knew that the man was Gary, he
who had once spoken of running Annersley out of the country.

"It's a dam' bad business," said one of the men. "The kid knows too
much. He'll talk."

"Will you keep your mouth shut, if we don't kill you?" queried Gary.

"Cut that out!" growled another. "The kid's got sand. He downed two
of us--and we take our medicine. I'm for fannin' it."

Pete, stiff with fear, saw them turn and clump from the cabin.

As they left he heard one say something which he never forgot. "Must
'a' been Gary's shot that downed the o1e man. Gary knowed the layout
and where he could get a line on the window."

Pete dropped to the floor and crawled over to Annersley. "Pop!" he
called again and again. Presently he realized that the kindly old man
who had made a home for him, and who had been more like a real father
than his earlier experiences had ever allowed him to imagine, would
never again answer. In the yellow haze of the lamp, Young Pete rose
and dragging a blanket from the bed, covered the still form and the
upturned face, half in reverence for the dead and half in fear that
those dead lips might open and speak.

CHAPTER IV

JUSTICE

Dawn bared the smouldering evidence of that dastardly attack. The
stable and the lean-to, where Annersley had stored his buckboard and a
few farm implements when winter came, the corral fence, the haystack,
were feathery ashes, which the wind stirred occasionally as a raw red
sun shoved up from behind the eastern hills. The chicken-coop, near
the cabin, had not been touched by the fire. Young Pete, who had
fallen asleep through sheer exhaustion, was awakened by the cackling of
the hens. He jumped up. It was time to let those chickens out.
Strange that his pop had not called him! He rubbed his eyes, started
suddenly as he