The sheriff’s eyes were gleaming in the dark, his lips were a tight line of determination.
He was beginning to get hold of the mystery with a vengeance.
He thought of the windy passage that opened into Blue Stone Cañon. If he could only find its head he would, as Smith had said, have solved the problem. And unless he missed his guess by a thousand miles, those steers streaming past him at the moment were headed for it now!
Here was the chance for which he had waited, for which he had ridden the hills for months, for which he had endured the contempt and the insinuations of the cattlemen.
Here was the chance to nail her crimes on Cattle Kate Cathrew, to make the “killing” of his years of failure in office—and Sheriff Price Selwood, brave man and honest officer of the law, took his life in his hand again and fell in beside the herd.
Dark, quiet, shadowy—he was a rider among the riders, to all intents and purposes one of Kate Cathrew’s men—and he was helping to drive Bossick’s steers up to the foot of Rainbow Cliff!
From the few low-toned shouts and oaths he was able to identify the two men nearest him as Sud Provine and Caldwell, the foreman.
He thanked his stars for his own dark horse, his inconspicuous clothing.
It was hard going up the steep slants of Mystery Ridge, and kept every one busy to keep the cattle, unaccustomed to night driving and in strange country, headed in the right direction and all together.
But they did the trick like veterans and after a long, hard drive, Selwood saw the rimrock of Rainbow Cliff against the stars.