As they rode up to the fire, the officer called out: “Howdy, ranger! How about it?”
Ross stated briefly, succinctly, what he had discovered; and as he talked other riders came up the hill and gathered closely around to listen in wordless silence—in guilty silence, the ranger could not help believing.
The sheriff, himself a cattle-man, heard Cavanagh without comment till he had ended with a gesture. “And there they are; I turn them over to you with vast relief. I am anxious to go back to my own peaceful world, where such things do not happen.”
The sheriff removed his hat and wiped his brow, then swore with a mutter of awe. “Well, by God, this is the limit! You say there were three bodies?”
“I lacked the courage to sort them out. I’ve been in battle, Mr. Sheriff, and I’ve seen dead men tumbled in all shapes, but someway this took the stiffening out of my knees. I rode away and left them. I don’t care to see them again. My part of this work is done.”
Redfield spoke. “Sheriff Van Horne, you and I have been running cattle in this country for nearly thirty years, and we’ve witnessed all kinds of shooting and several kinds of hanging, but when it comes to chopping and burning men, I get off. I shall personally offer a reward of a thousand dollars for the apprehension of these miscreants, and I hope you’ll make it your solemn duty to hunt them to earth.”
“You won’t have far to go,” remarked Ross, significantly.
“What do you mean?” asked the sheriff.
“I mean this slaughter, like the others that have taken place, was the work of cattle-men who claim this range. Their names are known to us all.”
“Can it be possible!” exclaimed Redfield, looking round at the silent throng, and in the wavering light certain eyes seemed to shift and fall.