ghters on the range
to put one on him."

Something like pride crept into the boy's voice while he spoke, and he
ended with a ringing tone. Then, feeling the curious, judicial eyes of
Mary upon him, he abruptly changed the subject.

"You say Dick Wilbur is dead?"

"I don't know. I think he is."

"But he started out with you. You ought to know."

"It was like this: We had camped on the edge of the trees coming up the
Old Crow Valley, and Dick went off with the can to get water at the
river. He was gone a long time, and when I went out to look for him I
found the can at the margin of the river half filled with sand, and
beside it there was the impression of the body of a big man. That was
all I found, and Dick never came back."

They were both silent for a moment.

"Could he have fallen into the river?"

"Sure. He was probably helped in. Did you look for the footprints?"

"I didn't think of that."

Jack was speechless with scorn.

"Sat down and cried, eh?"

"I was dazed; I couldn't think. But he couldn't have been killed by some
other man. There was no shot fired; I should have heard it."

Jack moistened his lips.

"Lady, a knife don't make much sound either going or coming out--not much
more sound than a whisper, but that whisper means a lot. I got an idea
that Dick heard it. Then the river covered him up."

He stopped short and stared at Mary with squinted eyes.

"D'you mean to tell me that you had the nerve to come all the way up the
Old Crow by yourself?"

"Every inch of the way."

Jack leaned forward, sneering, savage.

"Then I suppose you put the hitch that's on that pack outside?"

"No."

Jack was dumfounded.

"Then you admit--"

"That first night when I went to sleep I felt as if there were something
near me. When I woke up there was a bright fire burning in front of me
and the pack had been lashed and placed on one of the horses. At first I
thought that it was Dick, who had come back. But Dick didn't appear all
day. The next night--"

"Wait!" said Jack. "This is gettin' sort of creepy. If you was the
drinking kind I'd say you'd been hitting up the red-eye."

"The next evening," continued Mary steadily, "I came about dark on a
camp-fire with a bed of twigs near it. I stayed by the fire, but no one
appeared. Once I thought I heard a horse whinny far away, and once I
thought that I saw a streak of white disappear over the top of a hill."

The boy sprang up, shudde