"We don't know yet. Benito found him and brought him in. He hasn't been dead an hour."
Law ran his eyes over the room, and then asked, sharply, "Where is Mrs.
Austin?"
He was answered by Benito Gonzales, who had edged closer. "She's not here, señor."
"Have you notified her?"
Benito shrugged. "There has been no time, it all happened so quickly—"
Some one interrupted, and Dave saw that it was the local sheriff—evidently it was he who had waved from the speeding machine a few moments before.
"I'm glad you're here, Dave, for you can give me a hand. I'm going to round up these Mexicans right away and find out what they know. Whoever did it hasn't gone far; so you act as my deputy and see what you can learn."
When Dave had regained better control of himself he took Benito outdoors and demanded full details of the tragedy. With many lamentations and incoherencies, the range boss told what he knew.
Ed had met his death within a half-mile of Las Palmas as he rode home for dinner. Benito, himself on his way to the house, had found the body, still warm, near the edge of the pecan-grove. He had retained enough sense to telephone at once to Jonesville, and then—Benito hardly knew what he had done since then, he was so badly shaken by the tragedy.
"What time did it happen?"