A figure, worming its way close to the ground, crawled up on the sleeping horse buyer. It moved silently, a yard at a time; then stopped, raised its head as though to listen; on again, ominously, so much a part of the earth it covered that it might have been just the ridge raised by a giant mole burrowing along under the surface. It approached to within three yards of the sleeping man; to within six feet; three; two. Then it rose to its knees slowly, cautiously, silently, and put out a hand gently, lightly feeling the outlines of the blankets. A shoot of orange scorched the darkness--and another, so close together that the flame was almost continuous. The blankets heaved, trembled, settled. The man on his knees hovered a long moment, revolver ready, listening intently. Not a sound--even the horses seemed to be straining their ears for another break in the night. The man reached out a hand and drew the blankets away from the figure beneath, thrusting his face close. The starlight filtered in and he drew a long, quivering breath--not in hate or horror, but in surprise. He got to his feet and listened again. Then he moved into the open, over the way he had come. After a dozen quick, stealthy paces he stopped and turned back. He unbuttoned the jumper about the figure under the blankets, unbuttoned the shirt, felt quickly about the waist, fumbled a moment, and jerked out a long, limp object. Again he strode catlike into the open, and as he went he tucked the money belt into his shirt-front. VB rode straight to the ranch. He made a quick ride and arrived before ten. "Mighty glad Kelly got that man," he told Jed. "I'm like a fish out of water away from the Captain." At dusk the next day a horseman rode up the gulch to Jed's outfit. The old man stood in the doorway, watching him approach. "Hello, Dick!" he called, recognizing the deputy from Sand Creek. "How's things, Jed?" "Better'n fine." Worth left his horse and entered the cabin. "VB around?" he asked. "Uh-huh; out in th' corral foolin' with th' Captain." Dick dropped to a chair and pushed his hat back. He looked on the other a moment, then asked: "What time did VB get home last night?" Jed showed evident surprise, but answered: "Between half-past nine an' ten." "Notice his horse?" "Saw him this mornin'. Why?" "Was it a hard ride th' boy made?" "No--sure not. I rode th' pony down to th' lower pasture myself this afternoon." Worth drew a deep breath and smiled as though relieved. "Bein' 'n officer is mighty onpleasant sometimes," he confessed. "I knew it wasn't no use to ask them questions, but I had to do it--'cause I'm a deputy." With mouth set, Jed waited for the explanation he knew must come. "Kelly was killed while he slept last night." Horror was the first natural impulse for a man to experience on the knowledge of such a tragedy, but horror did not come to Jed Avery then or for many minutes. He put out a hand slowly and felt for the table as though dizzy.