Neil dodged rapidly round the foot of the mountain with intent to cut off the bandits as they retreated. He found the sheriff crouching behind a rock scarce two hundred yards from the scene of the murder. At the same moment another shot echoed from well over to the left. “Who can that be?” Neil asked, very much puzzled. “That’s what’s worrying me, York,” the sheriff returned. Together they zigzagged up the side of the mountain. Twice from above there came sounds of rifle shots. Neil was the first to strike the trail to the mine. None too soon for as he stepped upon it, breathing heavily from his climb, Reilly swung round a curve and whipped his weapon to his shoulder. The man fired before York could interfere and stood watching tensely the result of his shot. He was silhouetted against the skyline, a beautiful mark, but Neil did not cover him. Instead, he spoke quietly to the other. “Was it you that killed Phil, Reilly?” The man whirled and saw Neil for the first time. His answer was instant. Flinging up his rifle, he pumped a shot at York. Neil’s retort came in a flash. Reilly clutched at his heart and toppled backward from the precipice upon which he stood. Collins joined the cowpuncher and together they stepped forward to the point from which Reilly had plunged down two hundred feet to the jagged rocks below. At the curve they came face to face with Bucky O’Connor. Three weapons went up quicker than the beating of an eyelash. More slowly each went down again. “What are you doing here, Bucky?” the sheriff asked. “Just pirootin’ around, Val. It occurred to me Leroy might not mean to play fair with you, so I kinder invited myself to the party. When I heard shooting I thought it was you they had bushwhacked, so I sat in to the game.” “You guessed wrong, Bucky. Reilly and the others rounded on Leroy. While they were at it they figured to make a clean job and bump off York, too. From what York says Leroy has got his.” The ranger turned a jade eye on the outlaw. “Has Mr. Neil turned honest man, Val? Taken him into your posse, have you?” he asked, with an edge of irony in his voice. The sheriff laid a hand on the shoulder of the man who had been his friend before he turned miscreant. “Don’t you worry about Neil, Bucky,” he advised gently. “It was York shot Reilly, after York had cut loose at him, and I shouldn’t wonder if that didn’t save your life. Neil has got to stand the gaff for what he’s done, but I’ll pull wires to get his punishment made light.” “Killed Reilly, did he?” repeated O’Connor. “I got Anderson back there.” “That makes only one left to account for. I wonder who he is?” Collins turned absent-mindedly to Neil. The latter looked at him out of an expressionless face. Even though his confederate had proved traitor he would not betray him. “I wonder,” he said. Bucky laughed. “Made a mistake that time, Val.” “I plumb forgot the situation for a moment,” the sheriff grinned. “Anyhow, we better be hittin’ his trail.”