And Waring cursed.  His plan was made.  He would suffer no interference.  If Brewster were at the Starr Ranch, he would question him first.  If he were not, there would be no questioning.  Waring determined to trail him.  If Brewster had left that part of the country, that would prove his guilt.

Waring knew that Hardy and his men had ridden south, endeavoring to find some clue to the murderer’s whereabouts.  Waring, guided by almost absolute knowledge, rode in the opposite direction and against a keen instinct that told him High-Chin Bob was not at the ranch.  Yet Waring would not overlook the slightest chance.  Brewster was of the type that would kill a man in a quarrel and ride home, depending on his nerve and lack of evidence to escape punishment.

The Voice had said, “Not this way, Jim.”  And Waring knew that it had been the voice of his own instinct.  Yet a stubborn purpose held him to his course.  There was one chance in a thousand that Bob Brewster was at the ranch and would disclaim all knowledge of the shooting.

Starr was away when Waring arrived.  Mrs. Starr made Waring welcome, and told him that her husband would be in that evening.  He was out with one of his men running a line for a new fence.  The old days of open range were past.  And had Mr. Waring heard that Pat had been killed?  Buck Hardy was out searching for the murderer.  Did Mr. Waring know of a likely foreman?  Bob Brewster had left suddenly.  Jasper—­her husband—­was not well:  had the rheumatics again.  He could hardly walk—­and his foreman had left.  “Things always happened that way.”

Mrs. Starr paused for lack of breath.

“When did Brewster leave, Mrs. Starr?”

“Why, the last Jasper seen of him was Wednesday morning.  Jasper is worried.  I’m right glad you rode over.  He’ll be glad to see you.”

“Do you mind if I look over the horses in your corral?”

“Goodness, no!  I’ll have Sammy go with you—­”

“Thanks; but I’d rather you said nothing to the boys.”

“You don’t think that Bob—­”

“Mrs. Starr, I wouldn’t say so if I knew it.  Bob Brewster has friends up here.  I’m looking for one of them.”

“Goodness, Mr. Waring, I hope you don’t think any of our boys was mixed up in that.”

“I hope not.  Have you seen Tony or Andy Brewster lately?”

“Why, no.  I—­why, yes!  Tony and Andy rode over last Sunday.  I remember it was Sunday because Bob was out to the line shack.  Tony and Andy hung around for a while, and then rode out to look for Bob.”

“Well, I’ll step over and look at the horses.  You say Jasper will be in this evening?”

“If he ain’t too stiff with rheumatics to ride back.”

Waring walked round the corrals, looking for a pony lame forward and with half a front shoe gone.  Finally he noticed a short-coupled bay that had not moved when he had waved his arm.  Waring climbed through the bars and cornered the horse.  One front shoe was entirely gone, and the pony limped as Waring turned him loose.