B. M. Bower

“ Reid guessed that they would hurry back to the ranch before their absence was too prolonged to pass unnoticed when the murder was discovered.
He waited until he was sure they were gone, then went over to where Burns lay. It was as he had thought; Burns, shot through the back in a direct line with his heart, must have died instantly. Reid knelt beside him, blaming himself because he had urged Burns to come. He thought of Lorrie in the power of Uncle Howard—and that brought back the sober calculating sense of him. A man who would shoot two unsuspecting men in the back would stop at nothing. ”

“ Burns and Reid, without a word, saddled their horses hastily and left the ranch. Five minutes of silent riding, and then Burns turned in his saddle and looked back.
“I guess,” he remarked grimly, “we run up against the partner.”
Reid laughed shortly. “Looks like it. The thing now is to make tracks. I guess we don’t need any plainer evidence than that.”
They rode down to a little creek and pushed in, Reid crossing ahead. The horse of Burns seemed thirsty, and Burns sat with reins limp and let him drink his fill, with the pack-pony nuzzling the water beside his stirrup. ”

“ With the prudence of much experience they took with them a pack outfit, so that, if need came, they could camp out indefinitely. Of the exact location they could glean but little information. It lay somewhere to the north, and it was fifty or sixty miles away. Blue River was not the new outfit’s home town, though a train of Arrow-Point cattle had been unloaded there about six weeks before, and immediately driven north. There was nothing about the Dipper to excite the curiosity of Blue River, so that no one had taken much notice of their affairs. ”