At last, at two different times, parties composed of the most determined and desperate of the troublesome element set out in search of information about the nocturnal raiders, and, if possible, revenge. “Wasp” Williams was not a member of either of these expeditions. For some reason he found it necessary to attend to important business each time they were being formed. The first party returned late at night, unsuccessful and grumbling at their long, useless ride. The second one did not return at all! Two hours after they had ridden away from the town, a solitary horseman galloped furiously through the Pass, launched himself from his foaming animal before the Silver Star, and staggered up to the bar. His face was ashen. He gulped down glass after glass of whiskey as though it were water. Then, somewhat calmer, he noticed the gathering around him, eyed them stolidly a moment, and spoke: “Boys,” he remarked grimly, “I’m sayin’ ‘Adios!’ I got my fill o’ this here hell-hole, an’ I’m pullin’ my stakes soon’s I can git my dust together. I wish you all luck that stays here, but I reckon Ramapo ain’t in fer no happy times!” It took a long time, and much coaxing and whisky, to get him to explain more fully. Finally he consented. “We was trottin’ through that gulch they calls Rapheel’s Ravine—’count o’ the echo, I guess—an’ Bud Borresky was leadin’. We was all feelin’ pretty boisterous, when all of a sudden we hears a voice yell ‘Halt!’ We don’t see nobody at all, but we don’t waste no time comin’ to a stop. “Well, we waits awhile without sayin’ nothin’; but I can see everybody’s kind o’ loosenin’ up his shootin’ iron, Then a figger rides out from behind a big rock about thirty yards ahead. It’s all rigged out in a kind o’ shapeless black cloth or somethin’, an’ has a sort o’ hood over its head. Couldn’t see no face at all! There was somethin’ on its chest that looked like a letter. “I ain’t a goin’ to deny as how I gits to feelin’ kind o’ creepy! The moon was up, an’ the light, comin’ down from the openin’ at the top, was queer an’—an’ confusin’. The place is full o’ big boulders, an’ the shadows an’ bushes an’—oh, hell!” He took another gulp of the liquor, and stared gratefully into the empty glass for several minutes. Finally he drew a long breath and resumed. “Well, this black thing eyes us a couple o’ minutes an’ then says, kind o’ quiet an’ convincin’, ‘Better turn round an’ go back. If you value your lives, don’t try any more o’ these excursions!’ “Boys, I knows right off I has heard that voice before. I couldn’t make out who it was, but it was somebody from this here town. “But don’t say nothin’ for a second or two. Then he pushes his gun out. ‘You damn night-runnin’ coyotes!’ he yells, ‘I’ll git one o’ you anyhow!’ With that he lets fly. The black figger gives a little cry, rolls around in the saddle, an’ drops off.