Another splattering of shots, but closer now. A man was running wildly down through the brush, and they saw him now. Hatless, his clothes torn, tall, thin, running clumsily, trying to look back. He wasn’t looking for anyone ahead of him, and he was heading for Henry and Judge. He jerked to a stop, gun raised, when Henry hit him in a clumsy football tackle. In fact, Henry missed him with both hands, but his ample girth struck the man just behind the knees with terrific force, and he went down backwards, flinging his gun far into the brush. Both of them were knocked out. Judge went over carefully and looked them both over. Henry sat up, his face purple, as he tried to wheeze air back into his tortured lungs, but the other man lay quiet, arms outstretched, breathing heavily. Henry’s gun was on the ground, and Judge picked it up. Another man was running down through the brush toward them. Judge cocked the gun, his face grim, as the man came ahead, really smashing his way. He crashed into the opening, stumbled to a stop, and stood there staring at Judge. It was Oscar Johnson, torn, disheveled, but very much in earnest. He came on and squatted on his heels beside Judge. Henry was beginning to recover. Oscar looked at the other man, and a slow grin spread across his big face. “Ay vill be yiggered, Yudge!” he exclaimed. Henry drew a deep breath, and whispered, “Professor Fossil.” “Yah,” grinned Oscar. “Ay vass chasing him, Hanry. By golly, das faller can run!” “You--were--chasing--him?” panted Henry. “Yah, sure. How are you, Hanry?” “I do not know, Oscar. I doubt if I shall ever know again. How on earth did you get down here?” “Oh, that vass easy. Freeholey know the odder trail. Ve caught all free of dem, Hanry.” “All three of them?” queried Henry weakly. “Three, you said?” “Yah--su-re. Couple of dem vere vounded, but Pete Gonyer, he vars all right, until he vent crazy and tried to shoot us. Who is that yigger over dere, Yudge?” “That,” replied Judge, “is Bob Stickler.” “Yudas Priest! How did he get here, Yudge?” Judge shook his head. “He just came, Oscar.” “Three?” queried Henry. “Pete Gonyer and who else?” “Lou Greer and Yud Bailey.” “Jud Bailey? Oscar, Bailey is dead!” “No-o-o,” drawled Oscar. “All he got is bullet in his arm.” “But--why--didn’t he go into the canyon last night?” “He yumped,” said Oscar. “Ve missed him, and he valked to de ranch.” * * * * * Bob Stickler stirred and managed to sit up. He rubbed his head and stared around, looking at each of them separately, as though trying to reason out what this was all about. Then he tilted his head and looked up at the canyon walls. The professor was moving his arms and legs, as he recovered. The three men watched them. Consciousness came quickly to the professor, and with it came realization. Then he sat up, flexing his legs.