Sundown, who had been watching him, dismounted his horse.  “Chance, there, mebby he’s found somethin’.”

“Well, he’s your dog.  Go ahead if you like.  Mebby Chance struck a scent.”

“Coyote or lion,” said Wingle.  “They ain’t no trail down them rocks.”

Sundown, following Chance, disappeared in the canon.  The men covered Fadeaway’s body with a slicker and weighted it with stones.  Then they sent a puncher to Antelope to notify the sheriff.

As they rode into the Concho, they saw that Corliss’s horse was in the corral.  Their first anger had cooled, yet they gazed sullenly at Loring.  They were dissatisfied with his interpretation of the killing and not a little puzzled.

“Where’s Fernando?” queried Shoop aggressively.

Loring put the question aside with a wave of his hand.  “Jest a minute afore I go.  You’re tryin’ to hang this onto me or mine.  You’re wrong.  You’re forgettin’ they’s five hundred of my sheep at the bottom of the Concho Canon, I guess.  They didn’t get there by themselves.  Fadeaway’s got his, which was comin’ to him this long time.  That’s nothin’ to me.  What I want to see is Jack Corliss’s gun.”

Bud Shoop stepped into the ranch-house and presently returned with the Coitus.  “Here she is.  Take a look.”

The old sheep-man swung out the cylinder and pointed with a gnarled and horny finger.  The men closed in and gazed in silence.  One of the shells was empty.

Loring handed the gun to Shoop.  “I’ll ask Jack,” said the foreman.  When he returned to the group he was unusually grave.  “Says he plugged a coyote this mornin’.”

Loring’s seamed and weathered face was expressionless.  “Well, he did a good job, if I do say it,” he remarked, as though to himself.

“Which?” queried Shoop.

“I don’t say,” replied Loring.  “I’m lettin’ the evidence do the talkin’.”

“Well, you’ll hear her holler before we get through!” asserted the irrepressible Bud.  “Fade, mebby, wa’n’t no lady’s man, but he had sand.  He was a puncher from the ground up, and we ain’t forgettin’ that!”

“And I ain’t forgettin’ them five hundred sheep.”  Loring reined around.  “And you’re goin’ to hear from me right soon.  I reckon they’s law in this country.”

“Let her come!” retorted Shoop.  “We’ll all be here!”

CHAPTER XVI

SUNDOWN ADVENTURES

By dint of perilous scrambling Sundown managed to keep within sight of Chance, who had picked up Fernando’s tracks leading from the cottonwoods.  The dog leaped over rocks and trotted along the levels, sniffing until he came to the rift in the canon wall down which the herder had toiled on his grewsome errand.  Chance climbed the sharp ascent with clawing reaches of his powerful forelegs and quick thrusts of his muscular haunches.  Sundown followed as best he could.  He was keyed to the strenuous task by that spurious by-product of anticipation frequently termed a “hunch.”