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They were to camp that night by Cottonwood Spring, and darkness

caught them still some miles from their camp. They were on no

road, but were travelling across country through washes and over

countless hills. The ranger led the way, true as an arrow, even

after velvet night had enveloped them.

"It must be right over this mesa among the cottonwoods you see

rising from that arroyo," he announced at last.

He had scarcely spoken before they struck a trail that led them

direct to the spring. But as they were descending this in a

circle Fraser's horse shied.

"Hyer you, Pinto! What's the matter with--"

The ranger cut his sentence in two and slid from the saddle. When

his companion reached him and drew rein the ranger was bending

over a dark mass stretched across the trail. He looked up

quietly.

"Man's body," he said briefly.

"Dead?"

"Yes."