"He was with you that night. He came to the weddin' with you. It ain't no use in denyin' it. I've been thinkin' it all out. I was fooled by Jack's pacing hoss. You and Bud--" Here McKee interrupted with a solemn denial. Whether from a desire to foil the Sheriff, whom he knew was Bud's rival in love, and so thought him the young man's enemy, or from the benevolent spirit induced by the recent contemplation of his virtues, McKee was impelled to give an account of the murder which very convincingly indicated Bud as a protesting catspaw, rather than a consenting accomplice. At the end of the story he smiled grimly: "So while you were out o' the county on a wil'-goose chase after an inercent man, Peruna, he goes loco on paten'-medicine, an' gits the guilty party. Joke's on you, Slim. I nomernate Peruna fer nex' sheriff." Exhausted with the effort and pain of talking, McKee dropped his head upon Hoover's broad breast in a faint. Hoover bore him down to the spring, and bathed his wound and mouth. McKee revived, and in broken phrases, which were accompanied with blood from his pierced lungs frothing out of his mouth, continued his observations on the ridiculous and unfortunate mistake Peruna made in killing him. "Damn' fool--'s bes' fren'--I would herd--'th low-down intellecks--nev' 'preciated--no chance--to be firs'-class--bad man." And so Buck McKee, desperado, died like many another ambitious soul, with expressions of disappointment on his lips. CHAPTER XVII A New Deal Bud Lane, returning to camp, saw the returned Sheriff supporting the dying murderer of Terrill, and listening to what was undoubtedly his confession. He stole away before he was observed. "It's all up with me," he thought. "Buck has told him. Slim hates me along o' Polly. I'll get away from here' to-night." He met Polly by the mess-wagon. At once she saw that something had happened. Bud was deathly pale. He trembled when she spoke to him. "Why, what on earth is the matter?" she asked. "Nothing. I--" answered Bud, glancing about him, as if seeking some way to escape. "You're looking mighty pale--are you sick?" persisted the girl. "Slim Hoover--he's back--" Bud could scarcely speak. His throat was parched. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. "What!" cried Polly joyfully. "Is Jack with him?" "Listen here," exclaimed the young wooer. "Slim's heard about our goin' to get married, and he's sworn to shoot me at sight--" It was a lame, halting explanation, but the best Bud could invent on the spur of the moment. He wanted to get away to have time to think. "I don't believe it!" replied Polly indignantly. "Why, Slim--" In his excitement Bud would not let her continue her defense of the Sheriff.