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-ALAN LE MAY SYNOPSIS Kentucky Jones, veteran cowman, at tends the inquest Into the death of John Mason, banker. Jean, daughter of Campo Ragland, owner of the Bar Hook ranch, where Mason met death, ?urreptltiously pauses to J6nes the bul let which had killed Mason. Kentucky goes to work on the Bar Hook ranch. The Mason verdict is accidental death. Bob Elliot, owner of the adjoining range, drives his cattle on the Bar Hook range. Lee Bishop, Ragland'B ranch boss, expostulates, and Bill Mc Cord, Billot's foreman, insults him. Bishop and Jones are astounded at Jtagland'a Indifference to Elliot's ac tion. Bishop urges Kentucky to try to influence Jean to arouse her father. CHAPTER IV ? Continued ? 5? She said slowly, "Do you mean that, Kentucky?" "It stands." ^ ??Then?" she spoke with diffloulty? I "you're free to go. Itlde out of this, and try to forget everything that has hap pened here ! Some day I hope to see you again; I swear that I truly appre ciate what you've done. Rut there's nothing more that you can do here now." "I'm not so sure of that." he an swered. "Tell me this. Who asked you to try lo get that bullet out of the evidence. Miss Ragland?" He had failed to surprise her. She looked directly at him, and the blue of her eyes appeared paler, like the color of clear Ice, and as little revealing. "No one," she answered flatly. "I wanted It for a souvenir." At this suggestion Kentucky could not suppress a chuckle. "If by any chance that were so," he told her frankly, "that would be far and away the coolest thing I ever heard of be ing done." He Baw her color slowly, and her gaze flickered, but she stood her ground. "You? you don't know what you're saying. But? of course you're right. It was a silly, loco thing to do; maybe the worst thing I could hnve done." "And yet," he said gently, "you'd do It again." She averted her face abruptly, "it seems like," she said, half to him and half to herself, "I ask too much of peo ple, way too much, always." "You've never asked anything of me." "I made you carry the bullet away for me." "That doesn't count." She turned to face him. "Then I'll ask something of you now." "Bueno." Taking that bullet was a fool, crazy thing to do. You say I'd do It again. That's as may be. But now I want you to forget that It ever was done. Do you understand?" "That's all right," he agreed; "as far as that Is In my control." "As far as ? what do you mean?" I think, ' he said, "that somebody saw you take It. "The man that saw It Isn't sure of what ho saw ; but he's made a sharp guess. He even suspects that you gave the bullet to me." Her question tumbled out of her. "IIow do you know that?" "He came Into the sheriff's office while I was there, nnd he accused me of having received the bullet. He even Bald I probnbly had it with me then? which I did." "Who?" she demanded. "Who was that?" "Bob Elliot," he told her. She turned from him with a queer dull swaying movement, like n little tree turned by the wind. "Oh, dear God!" she whispered. Abruptly she turned back to him. "What did you nay? What did the sheriff do?" "Whnt could I say? I just stepped into Klliot and cracked him down. He ducked Into my left, nnd dropped like a thrown down rope. The sheriff?" "Stop I" she ordered him. Turning his eyes to her he was astonished to ?ce that her fnce had gone white with anger. "That was the worst thing jrotj could possibly have donel I wish? I Wish you'd never set foot on Wolf Bench 1" He said slowly, "I can't blame you for that. But ? H The Intensity of her anger cut him oft. "For heaven'n sake, shut up I | don't want to talk fc? you now." *8ha climbed the fence, swinging ever It easily, like a man. "Walt a minute," fcnid Kentucky; a midden qhlckenlng of hU Voice arrested her. "I Just now got an Idea, here." "I don't think anything you can say can Interest ma," she told him. "This * III Interest you/' he said gravely. "If I happen to be rlffht." Ha bad been watching I,ee Bishop Hda In at a walk from the look-over he had bean giving the road to Waterman. Vwantjr yards from the place where Kentucky Jones sn<l Jean ita^land stood, Bishop strnck a match to the clgaratta ha had rolled. As he rained tha copped Da ma to the cigarette, bis ihlad With a Sharp sidelong whip fc :V , . that put out the match, and they saw Lee Bishop's lips move bb he swore. Kentucky crawled through the fence. "That's happened ten times today." ho said. "How Is It, Lee, that half the ponies shy when they paBS that rock?" "Cussedness. I guess. Maybe that rock looks like a bear, to them ? I dunno." "Looks like they'd get used to It. then. Have they always done that right there?" "Well, no, come to think of It. Say ? I wonder If there's a dead coyote un der that snow?" I^ee Bishop dropped to the ground, and the two walked back to the rock which conceivably, to horses' eyes, looked something like a bear. Lee Bishop explored the drift with his boot. "Uh huh," he exclaimed, "that's Just what It la!" He thrust gloved hands Into the snow. Then Bishop hesitated, stood up, and stared at Kentucky Jones blankly. The blood that had come Into his face as he bent over drained away rapidly and completely, leaving his face gray, and somewhat silly of expression. "No, It Isn't," he said in a curious voice. It was Zack Sanders they found, un der the drift. He had been shot twice, and had died where he fell ; and they saw that he had fallen in this spot be fore the first of the snow. CHAPTER V If It had been a shock to the people of the Bar Hook when Zack's horse came In, the finding of Zack's body was a bombshell In truth. Examination established definitely In the minds of them all that Zack's death could have occurred at no other time than that ascribed to the death of Mason; for the same factors which had estab lished the time of Mason's death ap plied here also ? the time of snowfall, and the brief hour during which the Bar Hook had been deserted before the fall of the snow. Campo Ragland made repeat-id Rnd Insistent efforts to get In touch with the sheriff by phone, but Floyd Hopper was not In Waterman, nor could he be located. Under the Intense pressure of the Implications carried by the un welcome discovery, the par Hook peo ple found that they had little to say to each other. More than the death of a cowboy cook was Involved here. No one could any longer suggest that Ma son's death was an accident. The man whose death so desperately weakened the position of rlmrock cattle had been murdered ? almost within the 6hndow of this house. Yet, until the sheriff could be lo cated, there seemed to be nothing that they could do that night but wait. Kentucky had hoped to sntlsfy him self as to what had actually happened in the Mason case before the Irresisti ble march of events brought disaster to the Bar Hook. Instead, all the rim- I rock would know tomorrow that the Bar Hook had been the scene, not of an accidental denth, but of a murder, the result of which promised to ruin half the brands of Wolf Bench. "Put Up Your Hands." Tift wns unable to make headway toward rearrangement of what tie know. It would have boon easy to miK Ke*t thnt Joe St. Marie, who hnd Mod nboiit hla whereabouts At t ho hour of the crime, might have killed Zack Snrt dern ah the reault of aotne obscure quarrel And then killed Mason because Mafion was a witness. Thin did not, however, explnln Jean Iltigland's theft of the bullet that killed Mason; nor her Alnrm over the fact that a picture had been stolen from a frame! nor her Anxiety to conceal thin loan from her father. WhAt he knew war that Jean wax InextrlcAbly Involved In a murder which waa a dlnaftter to all of Wolf | Bench; and that as a result of thin murder the 88 herds were pouring across the Bar Hook range. For the present he lmd to admit that he was I sure of nothing more. He closed his mind to the puzzle, and tried to drowse. But presently he found himself roused sharply to a neu wakefulness. For some moments he lay listening ln^ ten fly, unable to decide what was wrong. Then there came to his ears the slip of cold wood on wood. He knew at once that someone's hand had fumbled In an effort to take down the bars of a gate in silence. Kentucky Jones stepped to the open window. Against the clean sparkle of the snow all snowless objects stood our In etched relief. Nenr the down-coun try trail a horse and rider appeared, to disappear at once behind the stone pump house. Kentucky swore under his breath. He had been unable to recognize the rider, but the horse he knew a tall black with a long white stocking on the off fore leg. It was the horse Joe St. Marie had ridden that day. Kentucky Jones returned to hlh blan kets with his nerves on a peculiar edge. He rolled a cigarette, and thought of Joe St. Marie. The crack bronc rider was a man of peculiarly mixed type. Almost no trace of accent or guttural came into *hl8 speech. St. Marie was unusual In that he mude no effort to conceal the dark strain In his blood. The big steel conchos on his five-Inch belt and the sliver work of his spurs and bit were barbarian touches hardly ever seen In the Wolf Bench rlmrock any more. So little further Insight into this man was afforded by better acquaintance that many must have supposed that this was all there was to know about Joe St Marie. But: Kentucky was not so sure. St. Marie was too compactly self sufficient, he thought, to be so easily known. Ue was able to fix upon one ftnme dlate probability. .If Joe St. Marie had gone out, he would presently return. Had he meant to Jump the range he could have used any number of sub terfuges for giving himself a long start before his absence was noted. St Marie would be back that night ; and, since he had not bothered to pick a fresh horse, he probably did not mean to be long gone. Kentucky dressed, and propped himself up in the corner of his bunk to watch the pump house trail. An hour passed; more than an hour. Looking at his watch he was aston ished to learn that it was only quarter past eleven o'clock. Sometime he had dozed, but he was certain thathevdould have heard St. Marie's horse If it had come in. He smoked again, and wait ed ten minutes more. Upon the snow, a spot appeared. It pulled up, shifted and separated, and he saw that it was not one horse but two, and the watcher made out that the second horse appeared to be a pinto, for he could not see the ani mnl's fore legs, and thus knew thai they must be white. Suddenly he knew that he was looking at. the pinto horse of Bob Elliot. Kentucky Jones spat through his teeth, and anger rose Into his head like a rising wind. Here was something definite and conclusive, upon which a man could lay his hands. The Bar Hook rider, whom he was now cer tain was Joe St. Marie, had ridden out to confer with the boss of the 88. He promised himself that within five mln utes he would know exactly what that exclusive saddle conference meant. Ihe pinto horse now turned, going back the way It had come; and the other rider, coming on, was lost to view again in the dip of the ground. Kentucky Jones took up the long barreled Colt which hnd so seldom emerged from the bottom of his war hag, stepped through the window, and ran to the corner of the house. Against the far corral stood a stable shed of peeled logs. To this lie made his way keeping it between himself and the trail. Within the long shed, across one end was fixed a horizontal log, used as a saddle rack ; he knew the rider would return his saddle here. Beside It in black shadow, he took his post It seemed to him that the night was silent for a long time before finally he heard again, close at hand, the small crunching complaint of the snow under the hoofs of a wn lklng horse. Flattening himself against the wall he could see neither horse nor rider as he pony was led close to the stable shelter. The animal wns still out of his angle of vision as he heard the rider drag the saddle off. not three yards from where he stood. Then close beside him the rider an peared, and for a moment was a sil houette against the snow; a figure made shapeless by the shouldered sad Within the stable he could see noth ing at all, though the other eased fliM saddle upon the rack so close at hand that a swinging stirrup struck his knee. So little space separated them that he could hear t?.^ rider breathe could have touched him by raising his hand. Kentucky Jones said sofrlv, "Put un your hands" ' ' lie heard the breath Jrr* |n the other s throat ; and for a n*>> ient thev stood in utter silence, as 1/ other of them any longer breathed at ?||. Me could not fell whether or not he hnd been obeyed. j The other said, "Who- who In it?" The wjjul went our or Kentucky .Tones. iW volco was hardly more than a whisper, twisted almost past recognition by shock and strain-but , he would have known It anvwhere In the world as the volco of Jean W land. For a moment both of them stood motionless in the dark. Then Ken tucky Jones said, "What In the n?rne o "e stepped out from the watl so that he ronld nee her silhouetted figure against the snow outside. With out the saddle there was nothlDg about her outline to suggest the man he had expected. Be had a queer shocked feeling that somehow a substitution had been made by unnatural means, so definitely had ho expected Joe S*. Marie. Then he saw her sway ; and he stepped forward In tinse to catch her iu his arms. Even then she would hare slipped to the ground If he had not held her up. Th? starch had gone out of her and she stood limp, not inert but trembling violently. "Don't ?don't ever do anything like that again," she gasped at last. "Good" Lord! Do you think I hnd e/iy idea it was you? I thought ? I thought you were Joe St. Marie." "St. Marie?" "I saw someone slide out of here on the horse St. Marie rode today. I saw that horse come back, and I saw Its rider talk to Hob Billot, on his big paint." The shock of surprise she hnd sus tained In t lie dark was turning into anger. "And what did you think yon were going to do about It?" she de manded. "That hardly matters now, does it?" "I askyd you a question," she said hotly. "I'll answer it then. If anybody but you had gone wolf prowling out of here in the night to powwow with your fa "All Right, Could You Make Out How He Died?" ther's worst enemy, and I caught him at It ? I'd have had the reason for that out of him, If I had to choke It out of him with these two hands." Jean's anger lilted. "You're bad luck for me," Bhe whispered. "Every thing that you have anything to do with goes wrong for me." "Maybe," he said, "that's because I don't know what yo:t're f-jing to do." "Why should I tell you what I'm try ing to do?" "No reason ; except that It seems to work out badly when you don't." She turned to him sharply, "I can tell you this," she snld. "I know what I'm doing here. I know more about what's happening here than you can possibly know. Can't you trust that? Haven't you any faith In me at all?" "You still won't tell me whiii you're trying to do?" "I can't 1 I can't possibly do that," All day long the liar Hook had tried to reacli Sheriff Floyd Hopper without success ; he had lost himself somewhere among the ranchers who had no phones. Campo Itagland yas unwilling to take up the death of Sanders ? with Its definite Implication that Mason had been murdered ? with any of the depu ties. And the ease hung (Ire, awaiting Hopper's return to Waterman. liut when word reached the sheriff at last, two hours after dark, he lost no time In getting on the Job. He drove steaming Into the I?ar Hook within an hour of his first notice. Floyd Hopper came into the kitchen briskly. His eyes were wary, and he did not Rmlle at all. "So poor Zack has turned up at last," he said, warming his hands over the stove. "How come you to find him, Lee?" "My horse kept shying one particu lar place." Lee Bishop said. "Soon as Kentucky called It to my notice I begun to wonder If there wasn't a dead coyote or something under the snow. So Kentucky and me looked, and rhere he was." "'Soon as Kentucky called It to your notice,'" the sheriff repeated. "So It was really Kentucky Jones who thought of looking In this place ? Is that right?" "Well, yes, though he only said ? " "All right. t'ouid you make our how he died?" , "Fighting," said Hlshop. "He wns l>'.ng In a kind of heap, face down, hut partly on his Bide. He'd been shot twice, once In th?j left shin, and once In the back. His gun wan under him In hlj right hand, and It was fired three tlmcft " "Hl? gun belt ? " began the sheriff. "He didn't wear a gun belt? didn't own one, far's I know ? Just carried hid gun In his pocket, I guess." The sheriff nodded. "Let'* see his gun, then." A* Lee Bishop went out, the sheriff turned to Kentucky Jones. "Could you tell which way Znck' was firing when he went down?" Kentucky exhaled smoke and shook his head. "A man's liable to spin and fall most any way, when he's nit." "Zack was lying beside a rock, wasn'< he? Now, the trail from down canyoa comes past that atone pump houn* I)ld It look to yon like he might hflv? took cover behind that rock, to flr? down the trull?" (TO OK CONTI1HJKI ? i FEW UNABLE TO " FIND THRILL IN UNCOVERED PAST What type of heart could It be that would not beat Just a little faster over the news that a Harvard expe dition will delve Into the wilderness of Sinai for the secrets of the Moon GfdacKs? What type of mind could It he that did not get a thrill out of Richard Halliburton's experience In the tun nel through which Jonb led David's army Into the Jebuslte city of Jeru salem 700 years before Christ trod Its streets? Isn't there a thrill In contemplation of digging into the Mayan ruins. In Mexico and Central America, or in uncovering the stone written history of Rome? It was In the wilderness of Sinai that the Hebrews, led out of Egypt by Moses, wandered 40 years work ing up the nerve to enter the Land of Canaan. It was on Mt. Sinai that Moses obtained the tablets bearing the Ten Commandments. Jerusalem, a shrine to Jew and Gentile alike, a pawn in wars that reach back Into the dimmest history, holds Becrvts most normal persons yearn to solve. The Mayans had a civilization on this continent when our ancestors still were dodging the powerful In Europe and dallying with the idea of political and religious freedom. It wns In Rome that Paul preached the new gospel, and where martyrs to It were burned In pitch to light the nrenn for gladiatorial con>hnt\ In the Colosseum, which still stands. Most of our thrills over expeditions of thut type are vicarious. 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