The body of the first man still lay where it had fallen, close to the cabin door, with the water bucket a few feet away. Approaching as closely as he could, and shielding his eyes from the mass of coals that had been the cabin, Bertram saw that the man was rather below medium stature and past middle age. Evidently he was a ranch helper--a cowboy who had seen his best days. The man at the edge of the clearing was tall and powerfully built. As he lay with his arms outstretched, his brawny hand still clutching the rifle, he made an imposing figure even in death. His features were aquiline, his nose having the curve of an eagle’s beak. Though he, too, was past middle age, there was no hint of gray in his hair. Plainly enough he had been a leader of men, a foeman to be feared. Bertram, stooping, read the message, scrawled in lead pencil on the square of paper attached to the dead man’s breast. It said: NICK CALDWELL KING OF THE RUSTLERS LET OTHERS BEWARE As he read the name Caldwell, Bertram uttered an exclamation. It was the name of the girl he had met at the start and again at Denver. Probably he was the girl’s father. In the bitterness of his heart Bertram cursed Swingley and the expedition. Then, his attention being attracted by some papers, the edges of which peeped from the man’s belt, Bertram drew the documents forth. There were two letters addressed to Nick Caldwell. Glancing through them in the hope of finding something more concerning the man’s identity, Bertram gave a whistle of astonishment. The letters indicated that the recipient, while ostensibly favoring the cattle rustlers, was in reality working for certain great cattle interests. But, if Swingley and this slain man had been associated on the same side in this great war of the range, how had it come about that the leader of the expedition had been so determined to kill his confederate? Was Swingley unaware that Caldwell was really working for the cattle interests, or had some personal feud arisen between the two men? “Probably it’s a case of wheels within wheels,” thought Bertram. “Maybe this man Caldwell threatened Swingley’s leadership. Or it may be that Caldwell was not so much on the cattlemen’s side as these letters indicate, and the word was given to Swingley to get him first of all.” Dropping on one knee beside the body Bertram glanced over another paper, which he had taken out with the letters. It was in the form of a diary, loosely scrawled on several sheets of paper. It was a brief account of the fight which had just taken place. “By George! this Caldwell was a cool one,” thought Bertram. “He found time to jot down a story of the fight, while he was standing off that bunch.” The opening entry said: Five-forty--The fight’s on. They’ve got Nate Day--shot him, as he stepped out after water. I can see from the window that he’s stone dead.