Sanderson as he walked, saw the muzzle of Sanderson's rifle projecting
from between the two rocks.

For the second time since the appearance of Sanderson on the scene the
man discharged his rifle from the hip, and for the second time he
missed the target.

Sanderson, however, did not miss. His rifle went off, and the man fell
without a sound. The other, paralyzed from the shock, stood for an
instant, irresolute, then, seeming to discover from where Sanderson's
bullet had come, he raised his rifle.

Sanderson's weapon crashed again. The second man shuddered, spun
violently around, and pitched headlong down the slope.

Sanderson came from behind the rock, grinning mirthlessly. He knew
where his bullets had gone, and he took no precautions when he emerged
from his hiding place and approached the men.

"That's all, for you, I reckon," he said.

Leaving them, he went to the top of the hill and bent over the other
man. A bullet fairly in the center of the man's forehead told
eloquently of the manner of his death.

The man's face was not of so villainous a cast as the others. There
were marks of a past refinement on it; as there were also lines of
dissipation.

"I reckon this guy was all wool an' a yard wide, in his time," said