As Sam Hogg ran, followed by several other men, he heard the pounding of hoofs slowly receding on the plain. They found Dutchy on the outskirts of town, lying face downward in the dust of the trail.
A brief examination by the light of a match convinced Sam Hogg that the grizzled puncher was dead. He had been shot through the head from behind. Even as death was upon him he had drawn one gun and fired. The little cattleman cursed with sorrow and rage.
A little later one of the crowd discovered the prone figure of Kennedy, the dude, at the side of the trail. Examination disclosed he had been stunned by the butt of a gun. He groaned and opened his eyes.
Sam Hogg seized him.
“Where’s the gal? Who downed Dutchy? What happened? Come alive and spill it.”
At each question the ex-Ranger shook the half-conscious man. Finally a lanky cow-puncher interfered.
“Hell, Sam, if yuh knock the breath out of the darned dude, how can he talk?”
At last Mac Kennedy told his story. He had called on Snippets and suggested they take a walk. He had done that many times before. Dutchy accompanied them. Just as they reached the fork in the trail he had heard a shot, and swung about in time to see Dutchy fall. Then something hit him on the head, and that was all he knew. He had seen none of the men who had attacked them. Sam Hogg was convinced that Kennedy was not trying to conceal anything, not even his own cowardice.
Sheriff Tom Powers arrived on the scene; without delay he formed a posse and started in pursuit. The crowd drifted back to town. Here they found more excitement. Tim Lynch had been knifed and killed by an unknown man. His body was discovered behind the bar of the Lone Star by one of the first excited men to return from the crossroads.
Sam Hogg walked slowly to his brother’s store. The two talked in whispers for a time, then Sam called in a passing cowboy and sent him across the street to the Red Queen to fetch Big Dick, his foreman.