Several neighbors were going over the ground, and so was Woods, the district attorney, who had shown an unexpected and most disconcerting disposition to inquire into some of the affairs of the newly organized association of cattlemen. In fact it was currently reported that Woods, who had been figured on as a quiescent tool, had been visited several times by Swingley, with threats of the loss of his political and legal suture unless he mended his ways. Threats apparently had no effect on the young lawyer, with whom Bertram had struck up an acquaintance which was fast ripening into friendship. Together the Texan and the district attorney surveyed the scene. The would-be assassin had hidden behind a bowlder, on the side of the moraine. His horse had been tied in a clump of asps, that grew over the side of the huge depression. There were some footprints and hoof prints, but the ground was so hard that these could be of no value. The discharged cartridge was found, but that, also, was of no value. Forty-five caliber cartridges of that character were carried by thousands of ranchmen in that vicinity. “Miss Alma wanted me to give you this,” observed the Texan, handing the district attorney a small square of paper. On it was the customary sign: Rustlers, Beware! printed in lead pencil. Woods examined it with interest. “Maybe this won’t be such bad corroborative evidence,” went on Bertram, handing over the paper which he had found on his own cabin door. The same letters were printed on the paper, but the work was done in ink. “That’s a pretty plain thumb print, down in the corner, isn’t it?” observed the Texan, noting the interest with which the official observed the new paper. “Yes,” replied Woods. “It’s quite the best one that’s come to light, so far. Let’s go to the ranch house and see if we can find anything corroborative on Jimmy Coyle’s equipment. The assassin came out from his hiding place after he had shot Jimmy and turned the boy over, thinking he was dead. I don’t think he meant to kill Jimmy, but probably the boy saw him and opened fire, or tried to get back to the ranch to give the alarm. Probably the fellow behind the rock thought he had made a clean job of it, but he did not reckon on the vitality of youth.” The district attorney and Bertram carried Jimmy’s clothes and chaparajos and rifle into a room adjoining the sick chamber and barred out everybody else. “I’m glad to have you work with me in this,” said Woods, “because I can’t trust anybody from the sheriff’s office, and it’s clearly impossible to take up such a case alone. I know I can count on you, right up to the finish.” “Right up to the finish,” said the Texan grimly, “and that finish can’t come too soon.” “I imagine it’s not so very far away,” responded the young district attorney. “These range murderers haven’t learned the advantage of working with gloves, like some of the city criminals.”