Ben Nyland's lips were as straight and hard as were those of the other
man who was racing toward the Double A from another direction; his face
was as grim, and his thoughts were as bitter and savage.

When he reached the bottom of the long, gentle slope that stretched to
the Double A ranchhouse he did not spare his horse. The terrible spurs
sank in again and again, stirring the animal to a frenzy of effort, and
he rushed up the slope as though it were a level, snorting with pain
and fury, but holding the pace his rider demanded of him.

And when he reached the corral fence near the Double A ranchhouse, and
his rider dismounted and ran forward, the horse heaved a sigh of relief
and stood, bracing his legs to keep from falling, his breath coming in
terrific heaves.

An instant after his arrival Ben Nyland was in side the Double A
ranchhouse, pistol in hand. He tore through the rooms in the darkness,
stumbling over the furniture, knocking it hither and there as it
interfered with his progress.

He found no one. Accidentally colliding with the table in the kitchen,
he searched its top and discovered thereon a kerosene lamp. Lighting
it with fingers that trembled, he looked around him.

There were signs of the confusion that had reigned during the day. He
saw on the floor the rope that had encircled Dale's neck--one end of it
was tied to the fastenings of the kitchen door.

The tied rope was a mystery to Nyland, but it suggested hanging to his