from the tone of your letter it seems things are not going right with
you. Hurry home, won't you?

With love,

Your sister,

MARY.


Sanderson finished reading the letter. He meditated silently, turning
it over and over in his hands. The last letter was dated a month
before. Evidently Bransford had not hurried.

Sanderson searched all the other pockets, and discovered nothing of
further interest. Then he stood for a long time, looking down at the
man's face, studying it, his own face expressing disapproval.

"Mebbe it's just as well that he didn't get to the Double A," he
thought, noting the coarse, brutal features of the other.

"If a girl's got ideals it's sometimes a mighty good thing the real guy
don't come along to disabuse them. William ain't never goin' to get to
the Double A."

He buried the body in a gully, then he returned to the other men.

Upon their persons he found about nine hundred dollars in bills of
small denomination. It made a bulky package, and Sanderson stored it
in his slicker. Then he mounted Streak, turned the animal's head