"It's growing daylight and there's the Pass, at last!" suddenly cried Judith.
Douglas drew a deap breath and urged on the weary horses.
It was full nine o'clock when the team drew up at the post-office door. At Doug's halloo, Peter Knight appeared. Sister crowded out the door past him, pricked her ears forward and ran to sniff at the rear of the buck-board.
"What on earth brings you back at this hour?" demanded Peter.
"Trouble!" Douglas moistened his frost-cracked lips. "Oscar Jefferson was shot last night. We got his body here."
"Who shot him?" asked Peter.
"We don't know."
"Where was it? Here, Sister, get back in the house!" Peter jerked the door wide.
Judith answered. "Up beyond the cedars, across from the half-way house. We found him while we were hunting for that devilish old mule."
Peter looked keenly at the two haggard young faces, then he said, "You two come in and eat and get warm. I'll do some telephoning."
"I want to get home to my mother," half sobbed Judith.
"Sha'n't we take him on to his house?" asked Douglas.
Peter replied impatiently, "You know he was baching it alone while young Jeff's in California. You come as I tell you!"
Stiffly the two stumbled out of the stage and into the warmth of Peter's quarters. He had just begun
