“Yes.” Then, as if something within forced the words out in spite of her, she added: “Are you looking for Brad?” “I want to have a talk with him.” His eyes told him that she was in a flutter of apprehension. He guessed that the dread which all day had weighed on her heart was no longer a dull, dead thing in her bosom. Her lips were ashen. “Maybe—maybe I could tell him what it was.” “Oh, I’ll ride over. When did he leave?” “I don’t rightly know just when,” she faltered. It was clear that she feared to arouse his suspicion by refusing to talk and that she was equally afraid of telling too much. The sheriff smiled grimly as he rode across the hills. He had five of the raiders identified already—five out of either six or seven, he wasn’t quite sure which. He glanced across toward Bald Knob, and judged from the sky that it was already snowing over there. If he had been at Wagon Wheel instead of at Bovier’s Camp when Purdy panted in with the news of the killing he could not have arrived in time to pick up the trail. His luck had stood up fine. That the evidence against the lawbreakers would sift in to him now he had no doubt. He intended that this should be the last night raid ever made in Shoshone County. Unless the district attorney fell down on his job, more than one of the Bald Knob raiders would end with a rope around his throat. Matson admitted to himself a certain surprise that McCoy and Rogers should be involved in such an affair. Sheep raids were one thing; murder was quite another. The sheriff liked Rowan. The cattleman was straight as a string. His word was good against that of any man in the district. It was known that he would fight, but it was hard to think of him as planning the cold-blooded murder of an enemy. The sheriff knew how high the feelings ran between the sheep and cattle interests. The cattlemen knew they were facing ruin because Tait and his associates maintained the right to run sheep upon any range just as others ran stock. To them it seemed that the intruders had no right whatever to the range. It belonged to cattle by right of a long-time prior occupancy. Moreover, under the leadership of Tait the sheepmen had been particularly obnoxious. They had refused to recognize any dead line whatever and their attitude had been in the nature of a boastful challenge. It was generally known that several of the cattlemen had personal grievances against Tait. First there was McCoy, with one that dated back several years. Silcott had been wounded by the sheepman and Falkner had been badly beaten by him. Cole, too, had quarrelled with him. One of these four might have started the shooting, Matson reasoned, or Tait might have done so himself. Legally, the question was not a vital one, since Tait had been shot down while defending his property against attack. Those who had ridden on the raid were guilty of murder no matter who fired the first shot.