"Yes," said the judge, "I heard rumors of it. But those things are not uncommon, and I haven't time to look them up unless the cases are brought formally to my attention." "Well," resumed Warde, "at the time there didn't seem to be any clue to work on that would indicate who had done the killing. We've nothing to do with the stampede, of course--that sort of stuff is out of my line. But about the shooting of the men. I've got evidence now." "Go ahead," directed the judge. "Well, on the night of the killing two of my men were nosing around the level near Devil's Hole, trying to locate a horse thief who had been trailed to that section. They didn't find the horse thief, but they saw a bunch of men sneaking around a camp fire that belonged to the outfit which was trailin' the herd that went down in Devil's Hole. "They didn't interfere, because they didn't know what was up. But they saw one of the men stampede the herd, and they saw the rest of them do the killing." "Who did the killing?" "Dale and his gang," declared the sheriff. Judge Graney's eyes glowed. He sat erect and looked hard at the sheriff. "Who is Sanderson?" he asked. "That's the fellow who bossed the trail herd." The judge smiled oddly. "There were three thousand head of cattle?" Warde straightened. "How in hell do you know?" he demanded. "Banker Maison paid for them," he said gently. He related to Warde the incident of the visit of Sanderson and the banker, and the payment to Sanderson by Maison of the ninety thousand dollars. At the conclusion of the recital Warde struck the desk with his fist. "Damned if I didn't think it was something like that!" he declared. "But I wasn't going to make a holler until I was sure. But Sanderson knew, eh? He knew all the time who had done the killing, and who had planned it. Game, eh? He was playing her a lone hand!" The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again, a glow of excitement in his eyes. "But there'll be hell to pay about this! If Sanderson took ninety thousand dollars away from Maison, Maison was sure to tell Dale and Silverthorn about it--for they're as thick as three in a bed. And none of them are the kind of men to stand for that kind of stuff from anybody--not even from a man like Sanderson!" "We've got to do something, Judge! Give me warrants for the three of them--Dale, Maison, and Silverthorn, and I'll run them in before they get a chance to hand Sanderson anything!" Judge Graney called the busy clerk and gave him brief instructions. As the latter started toward his desk there was a sound at the door, and Barney Owen came in, breathing heavily. Barney's eyes lighted when they rested upon the sheriff, for he had not hoped to see him there. He related to them what had happened at the Double A that day, and how Dale's men had followed Sanderson and the others to "wipe them out" if they could.