Calora had driven over it. Maybe, though, I can find some sort of tracks that’ll show⸺”

He broke off and scanned the hard earth, rocks and dust inch by inch for a long time, and betrayed his disappointment when again he mentally commented. “Can’t be sure about it. Maybe I’m imagining it. Everything so faint and beaten out; but it does seem to me that this buggy was driven up here off the main road, stopped, tied, stuck here for some time, then was turned round and driven back. The marks of the horse’s fore hoofs show that, and look as if they might have been made just about two days ago, or—say—at about the same time the footprints I followed were made. If that’s so, it accounts for a lot of things, and I dope it out about this way: Two men drove here and separated. One of them went straight back down the road, held up the stage, and after the job was done, slid up the hillside to throw Bill off the scent; then after Bill and the stage had gone made his way back into the main road and finally returned here to the buggy. When the two who did the job first separated the man with the iron on his heel went and climbed up to that spot where he could watch and from which, if it came to a show-down, he could shoot. He didn’t have to shoot, and probably made a bolt for it as soon as the stage had made a get-away, after which he also went down to the road and then back up here. The job was done and all the two men had to do was to drive away. The sheriff’s posse, taking Bill’s word that there was but one man, naturally picked up but one trail, followed it to where it came to the main road and was lost, and so entirely missed the trail left by the watcher a hundred yards away. Now which way did that buggy go and who was in it? It’s my guess that I know one of the men that was in it and that it went straight back to Wallula where it came from, and from where it started probably mighty early on that same morning. Ought I to get word to the sheriff right away, or ought I to wait a day or two and see what turns up?”

For a long time he debated this and then made his decision for the latter alternative, after which he again took to the hills to return to his and his partners’ claim and cabin.

Six days slipped away with the three partners waiting to hear any news concerning the stage robbery, chuckling over the information received in a roundabout way that no further developments had taken place, before the spell was broken by the chance arrival of a lank prospector from Wallula Camp who was invited to pass the night. He came opportunely as the partners were seating themselves for supper and Mrs. Hank Mills was cheerfully placing the food on the table. And 

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