Looking to the bottom of the coulee, Carl saw nothing but snow, where he had expected to find a dead horse and rider. "Ach, vot a country," he wailed. "Vy did I effer come to it? Mutter, I vish you vas here to hellup your Carlos." Then he heard a groan close at hand and looked about, expecting to see the phantom rider by his side. A short distance off lay a black splotch on the snow. It resembled the prostrate form of a man. Had he, after all, killed his horrible enemy? Cautiously he rode toward it. It was a man, and not the phantom, and it looked very much like a cow-puncher, for it was clad in leather coat and chaps, and there was a belt filled with cartridges, and in the snow beside it lay a Colt forty-five. This at least was human, and Carl climbed stiffly from his saddle and bent over it. He started back with a cry of surprise. The man in the snow was his line partner, Follansbee. That he was not dead was evident, for he groaned occasionally. It was up to Carl to get him to camp as soon as he could, and when he tried to raise the insensible form he was stopped by a gush of blood from a wound in the breast. But he heard a shot in the distance, then another, and another. The boys had heard his shots, and were riding toward him with all speed. Presently he heard the long yell, and in a few minutes Bud Morgan came dashing toward him at top speed, and soon they were joined by Kit Summers from sign camp No. 2, and the horror of the night was over for Carl. CHAPTER VI. CAUGHT IN THE ACT. Follansbee was carried to camp No. 2, where Bud, who was a pretty good cow-camp surgeon, examined his wound. A ball from an automatic revolver had struck him in the breast, but on account of the thickness of the clothing he wore, and the fact that he had on a heavy vest of caribou hide, in the pocket of which he carried a small memorandum book, the ball had penetrated only a short distance. While he had lost a lot of blood, and the shock of the ball striking had caused him to lose consciousness, he was not seriously hurt. It did not take Bud long to extract the bullet and stanch the flow of blood, and Follansbee opened his eyes and looked about wildly. "Where is he?" he cried in terror. "Whar's who?" asked Bud. "The man what didn't have no face," cried the cow-puncher. "Carl chased him avay alretty," said Carl, bending over his partner. "All right, Carl. You saw him, too, did ye?" "Sheur I sawed him, mit mine own eyes." "Then it's all right," murmured Follansbee, sinking back on his bunk. "I wuz afeared the boys wouldn't believe me if I told them what I saw." When Follansbee sank into a deep sleep, due to his weakness from loss of blood, the three boys sat before the fire while Carl told of his encounter with the faceless man, and of the six shots which he had fired at him and the ineffective bullets which had struck his body.