The Sheriff's Son

Gives Thr

y clean by the soft breath of the hills. Steadily he had jogged across the desert toward the range. Afternoon had brought him to the fo

had lived too long in sun-and-wind-parched New Mexico to resent a shower. Yet h

ad been fixed for the most part on the ground in front of him. Occasionally he swung his long leg across the rump of the horse and dismounted to stoop down for a closer examinat

ttle and galloped much. Not once had they fallen into the easy Spanish jog-trot used so much in the c

hich a possible foe might be hidden. His lean, sun-tanned face was an open letter of recommendation as to his ability to take care of himself in a world that had often glared at him wo

lurked here in the riffles and behind the big stones. An ideal camping-ground this, but the rider rejected it apparently wi

a reader of character might have found something significant in the stead

the cock of those same steel-blue eyes was something jaunty, something almost debonair, that carried one back to a youth of care-free rioting in a land of sunshine. Not that Mr.

stone, and so to the summit of a ridge which formed part of the rim of a saucer-shaped basin. He looked down into an open park hedged in on the far

owing plunged straight down toward the grove, yet he took certain precautions before venturing nearer. He made sure that the 45-70 Winchester that lay across the sa

erfully. "They call this Lonesome Park, and maybe so it deserves its name to-

le he gave strict attention to the scenery. At a bend of the stream he struck again the trail

ould be no doubt of that. Only the tracks of feet and the ashes of

reading the story. Foot by foot he quartered over the sand, entirely circling the grove before he returned to the ashes of the dead fire. Certain facts he had discovered. One was that the party

s at a mental impasse. Part of what had happened he could guess almost as well as if he had been present to see it. Sweeney's posse had given the fugitives a scare at Dry Gap and driven them back into the desert. In the early morning they had tried the hills again and had reached Lon

uld separate here and strike each for individual safety. But what

th him to an appointed rendezvous in the hills. Or they had ca

ad luck he would have got away with the whole thing fine. They still had the loot with them when they got here. No doubt about that. Well, then! He wouldn't divvy up here, because, if they separated, and any one of them got caught with the gold on him, it would be a give-away. But if they didn't have the dough on th

ked up a little chip of sealing-wax. Instantly he knew how it had come here. The gold sacks had been

to see how much it held. Dingwell clung to the opinion that the latter was the truth, partly because this marched with his hopes and partly

amp-fire drew his eye. Ashes did not arrange themselves that wa

The ground beneath them was a little higher than it was in the immediate neighborhood. Why should the bandits have built their fire on a small hillock when there was level ground adjacent? There might be

uck metal. Three minutes later he unearthed a heavy gunnysack. Inside of it were a lot of smaller sacks bearing t

lled off successfully the thing he had just done. The loot had been well hidden. It had been a stroke of genius to cache it in the spot where the c

hree rousing cheers, Mr. Dingwell," he an

and gave a dumb pantomime of yelling. He had intended to finish off with a short solo dance step,

ad slipped one little mental cog, after all, and the chances were that he would pay high for his error. A man had been lying in the mesqui

he called out. "Come right along to the p

out of the brush. "Don't you m

as he had been seventeen years before when he betrayed John Beaudry to death. Fox was shrewd and wily, but no gunman. If Chet was alone, his prisoner d

for the

l obeye

Not for an instant did his beady

our bac

an did as h

revolver. He placed the rifle against the fork of a young aspen a

ak and you're a go

cattleman from its holster. Then, having colle

exercises I interrupted if you've a

"That's right. Rub it in, Chet. Don't you re

d Fox dryly. "Now, lift that gunnysac

lf to the saddle, still wit

along the cre

asy to read chagrin and depression in the sa

self hugely. It was worth something to have tamed so debonair a dare-devil as Dingwell