"I knew he was a ruffian, hide and hair."

"But you thought he was her brother and that's a whole lot different.
What do you say to grubbing here? We've got to go to the Halle ranch
for hawsses and it's a long jog."

They lit a fire and over their coffee discussed plans. In the midst of
these the Southerner picked up idly a piece of wrapping-paper. Upon it
was pencilled a wavering scrawl:

Bleeding has broke out again. Can't stop it. Struve shot me and left
me for dead ten miles back. I didn't kill the guard or know he meant
to. J. KINNEY.

Neill handed the paper to the ranger, who read it through, folded it,
and gave it back to the other.

"Keep that paper. We may need it." His grave eyes went up the trail to
where the dark figure lay motionless in the cold moonlight. "Well,
he's come to the end of the trail-- the only end he could have
reached. He wasn't strong enough to survive as a bad man. Poor devil!"

They buried him in a clump of cottonwoods and left a little pile of
rocks to mark the spot.

CHAPTER IV

LOST!