ould not have known before he started that his
rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it.
Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit
lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove
that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent.

Lone lifted his head and looked away across the empty miles of sageland
to the quiet blue of the mountains beyond. Peace--the peace of
untroubled wilderness--brooded over the land. Far in the distance,
against the rim of rugged hills, was an irregular splotch of brown
which was the headquarters of the Sawtooth. Lone turned his wrist to
the right, and John Doe, obeying the rein signal, left the trail and
began picking his way stiff-legged down the steep slope of the ridge,
heading directly toward the home ranch.

John Doe was streaked with sweat and his flanks were palpitating with
fatigue when Lone rode up to the corral and dismounted. Pop Bridgers
saw him and came bow-legging eagerly forward with gossip titillating on
his meddlesome tongue, but Lone stalked by him with only a surly nod.
Bob Warfield he saw at a distance and gave no sign of recognition. He
met Hawkins coming down from his house and stopped in the trail.

"Have you got time to go back to the office and fix up my time,
Hawkins?" he asked without prelude. "I'm quitting to-day."

Hawkins stared and named the Biblical place of torment. "What yuh
quittin' for, Lone?" he added incredulously. "All you boys got a raise
last month; ain't that good enough?"

"Plenty good enough, so long as I work for the outfit."

"Well, what's wrong? You've been with us five years, Lone, and it's
suited you all right so far----"

Lone looked at him. "Say, I never set out to marry the Sawtooth," he
stated calmly. "And if I have married you-all by accident, you can get
a bill of divorce for desertion. This ain't the first time a man ever
quit yuh, is it, Hawkins?"

"No--and there ain't a man on the pay roll we can't do without,"
Hawkins retorted, his neck stiffening with resentment. "It's a kinda
rusty trick, though, Lone, quittin' without notice and leaving a camp
empty."

"Elk Spring won't run away," Lone assured him without emotion. "She's
been left alone a week or two at a time during roundups. I don't
reckon the outfit'll bust up before you get a man down there."

The foreman looked at him curiously, for this was not like Lone, whose
tone