He was saddened that such things should be.
Little time, however, was given him for gloomy reverie, when Queenie sniffed the air and turned her head a little to one side.

Looking in that direction, the rider saw the figure of a horseman assume shape in the glow as his animal advanced at a slow step.

He must have detected Sterry before the latter saw him, and was studying him with close attention, his rifle supported across his saddle in front, ready for instant use.
Reading his suspicion, the young man called out: "Come on, partner! You and I cannot be enemies at such a time as this." The salutation reassured the other, who increased his pace.
Before he reached Sterry the latter half-regretted his action, for he recognized the man as Duke Vesey, one of the most notorious of rustlers and a bitter personal enemy.

But a certain chivalry rules among such people, and after the greeting of Sterry to Vesey there was little danger of the latter taking unfair advantage of it.
"This is bad business," remarked the younger, pointing to the figure on the ground.
A hard look crossed the face of the rustler and his thin lips compressed as he shook his head.
"Yes, that's what's left of Jack Perkins; he was my pard." "How did it happen ?" "How did it happen! A pretty question for you to ask.

He was killed by the stockmen less than an hour ago." "But they didn't ride hither and shoot him down, I am sure." "I don't know what you can be sure of," said Vesey, ominously.