ney afoot up the street to the sheriff's office, a veritable pilgrimage of Dido crying revenge against the despoilers of her kingdom.
Not only did Main Street hear of the outrage against the sheep queen but—what was a far more potent appeal to the sympathies of the townsfolk—that one of the slaughtered bands had been the property of Hilma Ring, the girl left orphaned by the Killer's cowardly shot, the very girl whom that morning Two Moons had seen grimly riding in ahead of the murderer. Close to six hundred of her sheep had been either slaughtered or dispersed beyond all effort at a round-up.
Woolly Annie, in her turn, received news as startling as she dispensed: That Hilma Ring, together with Zang Whistler and Uncle Alf, had brought in the Killer; that all of them had entered the jail yard and none been seen since. The mother of the promising nine on Poison Spider's head-waters heaved a great sigh of relief at the information. She said her boy Dolphus had ridden over to the Ring home ranch on Teapot to tell Hilma of the moving of her band, had found the cabin deserted and evidences of a struggle therein.
Here was a fresh angle on the mystery of the
