been killed by a thirty-caliber,
soft-nosed bullet, which the sheriff had in his vest-pocket. Then,
from what he had been told, he judged that the man who actually killed
Brent would not have remained in plain sight in the lodging-house
window while his companion made his get-away. This act alone seemed to
indicate that of the two the man who had escaped was in the greater
danger if apprehended, and that young Annersley had generously offered
to cover his retreat so far as possible. Then, from the lodging-house
keeper's description of the other man, Jim Owen concluded that he was
either Ed Brevoort or Slim Harper, both of whom were known to have been
riding for the Olla. And the sheriff knew something of Brevoort's
record.

Incidentally Sheriff Owen also looked up Pete's record. He determined
to get Pete's story and compare it with what the newspapers said and
see how close this combined evidence came to his own theory of the
killing of Brent. He was mentally piecing together possibilities and
probabilities, and the exact evidence he had, when Pete walked into the
reception-room.

"Have a chair," said Sheriff Owen. "I got one."

"I'm Pete Annersley," said Pete. "Did you want to see me?"

"Thought I'd call and introduce myself. I'm Jim Owen to my friends.
I'm sheriff of Sanborn County to others."

"All right, Mr. Owen," said Pete, smiling in spite of himself.

"That's the idea--only make it Jim. Did you ever use one of these?"
And suddenly Sheriff Owen had a Luger automatic in his hand. Pete
wondered that a man as fat as the little sheriff could pull a gun so
quickly.

"Why--no. I ain't got no use for one of them doggone stutterin'
smoke-wagons."

"Here, too," said Owen, slipping the Luger back into his pocket.
"Never shot one of 'em in my life. Ever try one?"

"I--" Pete caught himself on the verge of saying that he had tried Ed
Brevoort's Luger once. He realized in a flash how close the sheriff
had come to trapping him. "I never took to them automatics," he
asserted lamely.

Pete had dodged the question. On the face of it this looked as though
Pete might have been trying to shield himself by disclaiming any
knowledge of that kind of weapon. But Owen knew the type of man he was
talking to--knew that he would shield a companion even more quickly
than he would shield himself.

"Sam Brent was killed by a bullet from a Luger," stated Owen.

Pete's face expressed just the faintest shade of r