"Who shot him?" asked Peter.

"We don't know."

"Where was it? Here, Sister, get back in the house!" Peter jerked the
door wide.

Judith answered. "Up beyond the cedars, across from the half-way house.
We found him while we were hunting for that devilish old mule."

Peter looked keenly at the two haggard young faces, then he said, "You
two come in and eat and get warm. I'll do some telephoning."

"I want to get home to my mother," half sobbed Judith.

"Sha'n't we take him on to his house?" asked Douglas.

Peter replied impatiently, "You know he was baching it alone while young
Jeff's in California. You come as I tell you!"

Stiffly the two stumbled out of the stage and into the warmth of
Peter's quarters. He had just begun his own breakfast and, at his orders,
Douglas and Judith devoured it while Peter went to the telephone. In an
incredibly short time John Spencer and Frank Day, the sheriff, galloped
up to the door. To them and to Peter, the young people told their story.

The sheriff asked a number of questions. After he had finished Douglas
queried anxiously: