of the mess cabin, which opens into the bunk-room through a door at its other end. Neal heard him, we suppose, and picking up his shoes and gun, went to see who it was; and the man, standing near the outer door, shot him down as he came through the other—four shots, Steve; two missed."
"Four shots, and in the cabin!" Sheppard turned to the Indian almost in appeal; but at McLain's nod his square chin set firmly. "You were right in telegraphing me it was murder!"
"Two hit—one here; one here," the Indian touched his right shoulder and then the center of his forehead.
"How do you know the man who shot him stood by the outer door?" Trant interrupted.
"McLain found the shells ejected from his rifle," Chapin answered; and the Indian took from his pocket five cartridges—four empty, one still loaded. "Man shooting kill with four shots and throw last from magazine there beside it," he explained. "Not have need it. I find on floor with empty shells."
"I see." Sheppard took the shells and examined them tensely. He went to his drawer and took out a single fresh cartridge and compared it carefully with the empty shells and the unfired cartridge the Indian had found with them, before he handed them, still more tensely, to Trant. "They are all Sheppard-Tyler's, Trant, which we were just trying out for the first time ourselves. No one else had them, no one else could possibly have them, besides ourselves, but Jim! But the gun-case, Chapin," he turned toward
