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three years of carrying the Kid, had becom e accustomed to the sounds of battle and rifle shots, and i n two quick bounds was himself among the rocks and tree s and out of sight.
    The Kid had hit the dirt behind his boulder with hi s Colt in his Est. His hat off, he peered from alongside th e rock to see who and why. A glance was enough to tell hi m his Colt wasn't going to be much help, so rolling over, h e got into the rocks and scrambled back to the paint.
    Holstering the Colt, he slid his Winchester from its scabbard. Then he waited.
    His position wasn't bad. It could be no more than a n hour's ride to Red Bluff Station, and he had until Friday t o return with the material. Well, until Thursday, anyway.
    How long did it take to make a dress y No more shots were fired, but he waited. At first he wa s calm, then irritated. After all, if the dry-gulcher wanted a fight why didn't he get on with it?
    No shots, no sounds. The Cactus Kid removed his ha t again and eased it around the boulder on a stick. Nothin g happened.
    The Cactus Kid, rifle ready, stepped from behind hi s rocks. There was no shot, nothing but the chuckling of th e stream over the gravel. Disgusted, he swung into th e saddle and turned his horse upstream. In a few minute s he glimpsed a boot heel.
    Rifle ready, he circled warily. It was not until he dre w up beside him that he saw the man was dead. He wa s lying flat on his face and had been shot at least twic e through the head and twice through the body. Kneelin g beside him, the Cactus Kid studied the situation.
    One shot, which wounded the dead man, had bee n fired some time before. The wounded man had crawle d here, seeking shelter. He had been followed and shot a t least twice more while lying on the ground.
    Whoever had done the killing had intended it to be jus t that, a kil1ing. This was not merely a robbery.
    The dead man's pockets were turned inside out, and a n empty wallet lay on the ground. Empty of money, that is.
    There were several papers in the wallet, a couple of fade d letters and a deed. A sweat stain ran diagonally across th e papers.
    Pocketing them, the Cactus Kid looked around thoughtfully. Seeing some bloodstains, he followed the track lef t by the wounded man back to the main trail. Here th e story became simple.
    The man had been riding along the trail toward th e canyon when shot. He had fallen from his horse into th e dust, had gotten to his feet, and had fired at his killer.
    Two empty cartridge cases lay on the ground.
    Evidently the wounded man had ejected the two empt y shells and reloaded, and then had been hit again and ha d tried to crawl to a hiding plaza or a better place fro m which to fight.
    Scouting around and checking obvious ambush sites , the Kid found where the killer had waited, smoking a dozen or more cigarettes. There were marks in the dus t where a saddle had rested.
    A saddle, and no horse? Scouting still more, he foun d the horse. It was a rangy buckskin, and from the looks of i t the horse had been literally run to death. Its hair wa s streaked with dried sweat and foam.
    "Whoever he was," the Kid said aloud, "he was goin' s omeplace in a hurry, or gettin' away from something. H e killed his horse, then holed up here until a rider cam e along, dry-gulched him, robbed the body, and rode off o n his horse."
    Returning, the Kid rolled the dead man's body over a small sand-bank, then caved the sand over him and adde d rocks and brush.
    Whoever had fired at him had been the killer, and h e could not be far ahead. The hour was now getting close t o sunset, and if the Kid wanted to join Scotty Ellis at suppe r he had best hurry.
    The sun was over the horizon when he loped his hors e down to the Bed Bluff' Station. Scotty came to the doo r shading his eyes against the last glare of sunlight.
    "Kid! Sakes alive, Kid! I ain't seen you in a coon's age!
    Some cowhand from over at the Four Star told me yo u was fixin' to get yourself hitched up."
    "Got it in mind,