Daniels remounted, skirted the edge of the Government reserve, and descended a draw which led into a small gorge almost concealed by a grove of young quaking asps. This received its name from box elders growing up the sides. If Black and his friends had rounded up a bunch of cattle during the day, and wanted to keep them unobserved until they could be stampeded into Elk Creek Cañon, there was no handier spot to hold them than in this little gulch. The sheriff had ridden these hills too many years as a cattleman not to know the country like a familiar book. In his youth, while riding as a puncher for Prowers, he and a companion had been caught in a blizzard and reached Box Elder Cañon in time to save themselves by building a fire. Since then he had been here many times. A one-room log cabin clung to the slope at the edge of the quaking asps. It had been built by a hermit prospector thirty years before, and had many times in the intervening years been the refuge of belated punchers. The officer walked in through the sagging door. On the floor was a roll of soiled blankets. Greasy dishes and remnants of food were on the home-made table. Three persons had eaten here as late as this morning. He could tell that by the live coals among the charred ends of wood in the fireplace. Also, the lard left in the frying-pan had not yet hardened. Daniels made deductions. Of the three, one had spent the night here to keep an eye on the cattle, assuming that his guess about the herd was a correct one. The other two had ridden up to Black’s cabin and slept there, returning in the early morning for the drive to Elk Creek. From the cabin the sheriff walked down into the bottom of the gulch. There was plenty of evidence to show that a large number of cattle had been here very recently. He followed the trail they made out of the cañon to the mesa and saw that it headed toward Elk Creek. He could not be quite sure, but he believed that three horsemen rode after them. The character of the ground made certainty impossible. The tracks were all faint and blurred. Daniels followed them for two or three miles to the rim of the draw down which the frightened herd had been stampeded. The sheriff rode across the hills to the Circle J P ranch. He found Jake Prowers and Don Black greasing a wagon. Black looked up as the officer came around the corner of the house and thrust his hand beneath the belt of his trousers. Prowers said something to him in a low voice and the hand came out empty. Daniels rode up and looked down at them. He gave a little nod of greeting. “How do, Jake--Don? I dropped over to talk with you about that business in Elk Creek Cañon,” he said. “What about it?” asked Black suspiciously. “I’d like to hear all you know about it.” Prowers answered promptly and smoothly. “I don’t know a thing about it, if you’re meanin’ me, except what I’ve heard over the ’phone. The story is, some cattle stampeded an’ a fellow got in their way--”