quite
thoroughly understood by them both.

The Warfield car went on, lurching over the inequalities of the narrow
road. Al shook his horse into a shambling trot, picking his way
carelessly through the scattered sage.

His horse travelled easily, now and then lifting a foot high to avoid
rock or exposed root, or swerving sharply around obstacles too high to
step over. Al very seldom travelled along the beaten trails, though
there was nothing to deter him now save an inherent tendency toward
secretiveness of his motives, destinations and whereabouts. If the
country was open, you would see Al Woodruff riding at some distance
from the trail--or you would not see him at all, if there were gullies
in which he could conceal himself. He was always "line-riding," or
hunting stray stock--horses, usually--or striking across to some
line-camp of the Sawtooth on business which he was perfectly willing to
state.

But you will long ago have guessed that he was the evil eye of the
Sawtooth Company. He took no orders save such general ones as Senator
Warfield had just given him. He gave none. Whatever he did he did
alone, and he took no man into his confidence. It is more than
probable that Senator Warfield would never have known to a certainty
that Al was responsible for Thurman's death, if Al had not been worried
over the Quirt's possible knowledge of the crime and anxious to know
just how far his power might go.

Ostensibly he was in charge of the camp at Whisper, a place far enough
off the beaten trails to free him from chance visitors. The Sawtooth
kept many such camps occupied by men whose duty it was to look after
the Sawtooth cattle that grazed near; to see that stock did not "bog
down" in the tricky sand of the adjacent water holes and die before
help came, and to fend off any encroachments of the smaller cattle
owners--though these were growing fewer year by year, thanks to the
weeding-out policy of the Sawtooth and the cunning activities of such
as Al Woodruff.

It may sound strange to say that the Sawtooth country had not had a
real "killing" for years, though accidental deaths had been rather
frequent. One man, for instance, had fallen over a ledge and broken
his neck, presumably while drunk. Another had bought a few sticks of
dynamite to open up a spring on his ranch, and at the inquest which
followed the jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by being
blown up by the accidental discharge of dynamit