ifteen miles up the crick," returned
Ferguson. "I was ridin' along the edge of the plateau an' I saw a man
down there shoot another. I got down as soon as I could an' found
Rope. There wasn't nothin' I could do. So I planted him where I found
him an' brought his horse back. There was two rustlers there. But
only one done the shootin'. I got the name of one."

Stafford cursed. "I'm wantin' to know who it was!" he demanded. "I'll
make him--why, damn him, I'll----"

"You're carryin' on awful," observed Ferguson dryly. "But you ain't
doin' any good." He leaned closer to Stafford. "I'm quittin' my job
right now," he said.

Stafford leaned back in his chair, surprised into silence. For an
instant he glared at the stray-man, and then his lips curled scornfully.

"So you're quittin'," he sneered; "scared plum out because you seen a
man put out of business! I reckon Leviatt wasn't far wrong when he
said----"

"I wouldn't say a lot," interrupted Ferguson coldly. "I ain't
admittin' that I'm any scared. An' I ain't carin' a heap because
Leviatt's been gassin' to you. But I'm quittin' the job you give me.
Ben Radford ain't the man who's been rustlin' your cattle. It's
someone else. I'm askin' you to hire me to find out whoever it is.
I'm wantin' a free hand. I don't want anyone askin' me any questions.
I don't want anyone orderin' me around. But if you want the men who
are rustlin' your cattle, I'm offerin' to do the job. Do I get it?"

"You're keepin' right on--workin' for the Two Diamond," returned
Stafford. "But I'd like to get hold of the man who got Rope."

Ferguson smiled grimly. "That man'll be gittin' his some day," he
declared, rising. "I'm keepin' him for myself. Mebbe I won't shoot
him. I reckon Rope'd be some tickled if he'd know that the man who
shot him could get a chance to think it over while some man was
stringin' him up. You ain't sayin' anything about anything."

He turned and went out. Five minutes later Stafford saw him riding
slowly toward the river.

As the days went a mysterious word began to be spoken wherever men
congregated. No man knew whence the word had come, but it was
whispered that Rope Jones would be seen no more. His pony joined the
remuda; his saddle and other personal effects became prizes for which
the men of the outfit cast lots. Inquiries were made concerning the
puncher by friends who persisted in being inquisitive, but nothing
resulted. In time t