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"All right. I'll tell you some facts. Just as I was coming down

from the Roskruge range this mo'ning I was held up for my team.

One of these fellows--the one called Kinney--had started from

Fort Lincoln on this roan here, but he was wounded and broke

down. There was some gun-play, and he gave me this scratch on the

cheek. The end of it was that he took my team and left me with

his worn-out bronc. I plugged on all day with the hawss till

about three mebbe, then seeing it was all in I unsaddled and

picketed. I lay down and dropped asleep. Next I knew the

necktie-party was in session."

"What time was it y'u met this fellow Kinney?" asked Long

sharply.

"Must have been about nine or nine-thirty I judge."

"And it's five now. That's eight hours' start, and four more

before we can cut his trail on Roskruge. By God, we've lost him!"

"Looks like," agreed another ruefully.

"Make straight for the Arivaca cut-off and you ought to stand a

show," suggested Fraser.