One bright morning the sheriff left for a trip to Chicago and other packing cities to arrange for future cattle shipments, and announced that he would be away for a week or two. On the night following his departure trouble began. The ranch and bunk houses of the Cross Bar-8 were fired into, and when Sneed and his men had returned after a fruitless search in the dark the foreman stared at the wall and swore. Was it The Orphan again? In the absence of the sheriff had he renewed the war? First thought cried that he had, but gradually the idea became untenable. Why should The Orphan risk his splendid berth on the A-Y, his prospects now rich in promise, to work off any lingering hatred? When Sneed had shaken hands with him he found apparent sincerity in the warm clasp. He would ride over at daylight and have the matter settled once and for all. And if satisfied that The Orphan was guiltless of the outrage he would turn his whole attention to the imitator of the former outlaw. The Orphan was mending his saddle girth when he saw Sneed cantering past the farthest corral. The latter's horse bore all the signs of hard riding and he looked up inquiringly at the visitor. "Good morning, Sneed," he said pleasantly, arising and laying aside the saddle. "What's up, anything?" "Yes, and I came over to find out about it," Sneed answered. "I hardly know how to begin--but here, I'll tell it from the beginning," and he related what had occurred, much to the wonder of The Orphan. "Now," finished the visitor, "I want to ask you a question, although I may be a d----n fool for doing it. But I want to get this thing thrashed out. Do you know who did it?" The foreman of the A-Y straightened up, his eyes flashing, and then he realized that Sneed had some right to question him after what had occurred in the past. "No, Sneed, I do not," he answered, "but in two guesses I can name the man!" "Good!" cried Sneed. "Go ahead!" "Bucknell?" "No, he was with me in the bunk-house," replied the foreman of the Cross Bar-8. "It wasn't him--go on." "Tex Williard," said The Orphan with decision. "Tex?" cried Sneed. "Why?" "It's plain as day, Sneed," The Orphan answered. "He's sore at me, but lacks nerve." "But, thunderation, how would he hurt you by shooting at us?" Sneed demanded, impatiently.