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The second night came down on him far up on Dutchman Creek, in

the Cedar Mountain district. He made a bed, where his horse found

a meal, in a haystack of a small ranch, the buildings of which

were strung along the creek. He was weary, and he slept deep.

When he awakened next morning, it was to hear the sound of men's

voices. They drifted to him from the road in front of the house.

Carefully he looked down from the top of his stack upon three

horsemen talking to the bare-headed ranchman whom they had called

out from his breakfast.

"No, I ain't seen a thing of him. Shot Billy Faulkner, you say?

What in time for?" the rancher was innocently asking.

"You know what for, Hank Speed," the leader of the posse made

sullen answer. "Well, boys, we better be pushing on, I expect."