There was an abrupt breaking-off after "free." Then a dreadful cry. "Lafe!" came Jerry's shout. Johnson ran towards the spring. Close to it Sellers was hunched on the ground, doubled up over the bucket which stood between his legs. He was quite dead. There was a deep wound in his back, just below the shoulder blade. They carried him to the barn in order not to stampede the guests, and roused Horne, who was sleeping. When they led him to view the body, the cowman was not wholly awake. "Who did it?" he asked stupidly. That was what everybody asked his neighbor by silent questioning of eyes. "I think I know," said Lafe. He left them and went in search of Bass. He could not find him at the house. Upon that he sped to the corrals, but Mordecai's horse was gone. The half-breed Baptismo informed him that Bass had ridden off only a few minutes before. Johnson did not hesitate. He was no longer a sheriff, but he was boss of the Anvil range, and Anvil hospitality had been outraged and dishonored. He would track down the slayer. Arriving at this decision while Horne plied question on question without obtaining a reply, he went to inform Hetty. "All right," said that young woman sleepily. "Take care of yourself." It is probable that in her drowsy state she did not appreciate his mission, else she would not have let him go so readily. CHAPTER XXXIV HE ARRESTS A SUSPECT Johnson caught his most dependable horse and rode out from the Anvil headquarters. Strapped to his hip was a .45 Colt and he had a 30-30 Winchester in his saddle holster. Florence Steel, on foot, overtook him at the gate of the home pasture. "What's this I hear? Where're you going, Mr. Johnson?" Lafe told her glibly that he had been sent by Mr. Horne to recover certain cattle which had been run off by hostile nesters during the festivities. It was true that some cattle had been stolen. "Sure," said Florence, gazing intently into his face. "If you meet up with him, better watch out. A man who'll stab in the back will do most anything." "What do you know about this?" "When you catch him," the girl added, "just give him this. Ask if this doesn't belong to him." She thrust into Johnson's hand a large clasp knife. There were blood stains on the blades and handle. Lafe nodded and put it in his pocket. He did not even inquire how the girl had come by it. About dusk, on the following day, Johnson sighted Bass moving quietly up a ravine on the west side of The Hatter. Some cottonwoods intervened to spoil a shot. Lafe made a detour and quickened his pace, hoping to head him off. As he emerged from the ravine on to a mesa, Bass perceived him. Instead of fleeing, he turned his horse and threw up an arm as a caution to Lafe to halt. "What do you want?" he cried. "I want you. Better come along quiet. It'll save trouble." "I wouldn't choose to, thanks. No. I reckon I won't."