ere doing what was very, very wrong--
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!
And the song of the owls, it sounded so nice
That closer and closer crept the three little mice.
And the owls came and gobbled them----"_

A shadow fell across the floor.

"Hands up!" said the sheriff of Dona Ana. "We want Chris Foy!"

Chapter IV

Navajo, Pima, and Hopi enjoy seven cardinal points--north, east,
west, south, up, down, and right here. In these and any intermediate
directions from the Vorhis Ranch the diligent posse comitatus made
swift and jealous search through the slow hours of afternoon. It
commandeered the V H Saddle horses in the corral; it searched for sign
in the soft earth of the wandering draws between the dozen low hills
scattered round Big Thumb Butte and Little Thumb Butte; it rode
circles round the ranch; the sign of Christopher Foy's shod horse was
found and followed hotfoot by a detachment. Eight men had arrived in
the first bunch, with the sheriff; others from every angle joined
by twos and threes from hour to hour till the number rose to above
a score. A hasty election provided a protesting cook and a horse
wrangler; a V H beef was slaughtered.

The posse was rather equally divided between two classes--simpletons
and fools. The first unquestionably believed Foy to be a base and
cowardly murderer, out of law, whom it were most righteous to harry;
else, as the storied juryman put it, "How came he there?" The other
party were of those who hold that evildoing may permanently prosper
and endure.

In the big living room of the adobe ranch house much time had been
wasted in cross-questions and foolish answers. Stella Vorhis had been
banished to her own room and Sheriff Matt Lisner had privately told
off a man to make sure she did not escape.

Lisner and Ben Creagan, crossest of the four examiners, had been
prepared to meet by crushing denial an eager and indignant statement
from Pringle, adducing the Gadsden House affair and his subsequent
companying with Foy as proof positive of Foy's innocence. That no
such accusation came from Pringle set these able but mystified deniers
entirely at a loss, left the denial high and dry. Creagan mopped his
brow furtively.

"Vorhis," said Sheriff Matt, red and angry from an hour's endeavor, "I
think you're telling a pack of lies--every word of it. You know mighty
well where Foy is."

The Major's gray goatee quivered.

"Guess I'll tell you lies if I want to,"