They did not even conjecture as to who it might be, because the trail would lead them to the man himself, and it mattered nothing who or what he was--there was only one course to take with an assassin. So they said nothing, but rode on with squared jaws and set lips, the seven ponies breast to breast in a close arc. Soon they came to an arroyo which they took at a leap. As they approached it they saw signs in the dust which told them that a body had lain there huddled up; and there were brown spots on the baked alkali. The trail they followed was now single, Buck having ridden along the bank of the arroyo when hunting for Johnny, for whom he had orders. This trail was very irregular, as if the horse had wandered at will. Suddenly they came upon five tracks, all pointing one way, and four of these turned abruptly and disappeared in the northwest. Half a mile beyond the point of separation was a chaparral, which was an important factor to them. Each man knew just what had taken place as if he had been an eyewitness, for the trail was plain. The assassins had waited in the chaparral for Johnny to pass, probably having seen him riding that way. When he had passed and his back had been turned to them they had fired and wounded him severely at the first volley, for Johnny was of the stuff that fights back and his revolvers had showed full chambers and clean barrels when Red had examined them in the bunk house. Then they had given chase for a short distance and, from some inexplicable motive, probably fear, they had turned and ridden off without knowing how bad he was hit. It was this trail that led to the northwest, and it was this trail that they followed without pausing. When they had covered fifty miles they sighted the Cross Bar O ranch where they hoped to secure fresh mounts. As they rode up to the ranch house the owner, Bud Wallace, came around the corner and saw them. “Hullo, boys! What deviltry are yu up to now?” he asked. Buck leaped from his mount, followed by the others, and shoved his sombrero back on his head as he started to remove the saddle. “We're trailin' a bunch of murderers. They ambushed Johnny an' blame near killed him. I stopped here to get fresh cayuses.” “Yu did right!” replied Wallace heartily. Then raising his voice he shouted to some of his men who were near the corral to bring up the seven best horses they could rope. Then he told the cook to bring out plenty of food and drink. “I got four punchers what ain't doin' nothin' but eat,” he suggested. “Much obliged, Wallace, but there's only four of 'em, an' we'd rather get 'em ourselves--Johnny'ud feel better,” replied Buck, throwing his saddle on the horse that was led up to him. “How's yore cartridges--got plenty?” Persisted Wallace. “Two hundred apiece,” responded Buck, springing into his saddle and riding off. “So long,” he called. “So long, an' plug blazes out of them,” shouted Wallace as the dust swept over him.