st night."

"A good idea," Lone agreed. "Do you see how it was done, Swan? When
he saw the team coming, away back toward Echo, he rode down into that
wash and tied his horse. He was walking when Frank overtook him, I
reckon--maybe claiming his horse had broke away from him. He had a
rock in his handkerchief. Frank stopped and gave him a lift, and he
used the rock first chance he got. Then I reckon he stuck the whisky
bottle in Frank's pocket and heaved him out. He dropped the
handkerchief out of his hip pocket when he jumped out of the rig. It's
right simple, and if folks didn't get to wondering about it, it'd be
safe as any killing can be. As safe," he added meaningly, "as dragging
Fred Thurman, or unhooking Brit's chain-lock before he started down the
canyon with his load of posts."

Swan did not answer, but turned back to where the horse had been left
tied and took up the trail from there. As before, the dog trotted
along, Lone riding close behind him and Swan striding after. They did
not really need the dog, for the hoofprints were easily followed for
the greater part of the way.

They had gone perhaps four miles when Lone turned, resting a hand on
the cantle of his saddle while he looked back at Swan. "You see where
he was headed for, don't yuh, Swan?" he asked, his tone as friendly as
though he was not under arrest as a murderer. "If he didn't go to
Whisper, I'll eat my hat."

"You're the man to know," Swan retorted grimly. And then, because
Lone's horse had slowed in a long climb over a ridge, he came up even
with a stirrup. "Lone, I hate to do it. I'd like you, if you don't
kill for a living. But for that I could shoot you quick as a coyote.
You're smart--but not smart enough. You gave yourself away when I
showed you Fred's saddle. After that I knew who was the Sawtooth
killer that I came here to find."

"You thought you knew," Lone corrected calmly.

"You don't have to lie," Swan informed mm bluntly. "You don't have to
tell anything. I find out for myself if I make mistake."

"Go to it," Lone advised him coldly. "It don't make a darn bit of
difference to me whether I ride in front of you or behind. I'm so glad
you're here on the job, Swan, that I'm plumb willing to be tied hand
and foot if it'll help you any."

"When a man's too damn willing to be my prisoner," Swan observed
seriously, "he gets tied, all right. Put out your hands, Lone. You
look good to me with bracelets on, w