Slade himself led the party that set out to capture my former hosts, and I went along, though nearly beat out.
Twenty of us, after a brisk ride, reached the dugout at ten o'clock in the morning.

But the thieves had gone.

We found a newly made grave where they had buried the man I had to kill, and a trail leading southwest toward Denver.

That was all.

But my adventure at least resulted in clearing the country of horse-thieves.