"
"Well," resumed Warde, "at the time there didn't seem to be any clue to
work on that would indicate who had done the killing. We've nothing to
do with the stampede, of course--that sort of stuff is out of my line.
But about the shooting of the men. I've got evidence now."
"Go ahead," directed the judge.
"Well, on the night of the killing two of my men were nosing around the
level near Devil's Hole, trying to locate a horse thief who had been
trailed to that section. They didn't find the horse thief, but they
saw a bunch of men sneaking around a camp fire that belonged to the
outfit which was trailin' the herd that went down in Devil's Hole.
"They didn't interfere, because they didn't know what was up. But they
saw one of the men stampede the herd, and they saw the rest of them do
the killing."
"Who did the killing?"
"Dale and his gang," declared the sheriff.
Judge Graney's eyes glowed. He sat erect and looked hard at the
sheriff.
"Who is Sanderson?" he asked.
"That's the fellow who bossed the trail herd.
Pages:
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318