Swingley pursed, and Hoog made a motion to draw, but the leader of the invaders held up a warning hand.
“No shootin’ to-day, Tom,” he said. “This young cub is goin’ to listen to reason. I know what’s the matter with him. He’s fell in with Nick Caldwell’s stepdaughter here, and he wants to throw in with the rustler faction, thinkin’ that that’ll help him along with his love affair. But listen here, young lady, and you, Uncle Billy, who have been harborin’ this youngster. It was Milt Bertram who made it possible for us to burn out Nick Caldwell at the Powderhorn ranch. If it hadn’t been for Milt, here, we wouldn’t have had the go-devil made, the thing that made it possible for us to get right up to the cabin. I believe Nick would have stood us off all day if it hadn’t been for that thing. Do you deny that you made a go-devil for us, Milt?”
Bertram felt that the girl’s questioning eyes were turned upon him, but he made no sign.
“See, he don’t dare say no,” said Swingley, “because he’d know he wasn’t tellin’ the truth. He belonged to us at the start, and he belongs to us now. You know where to find us, Milt, when you’re well enough to ride. And I’m advisin’ you to come right back to the reservation and be a good Indian, if you don’t want trouble. We may want you to make another go-devil for us.” With a laugh Swingley turned his horse and dashed away, Hoog following.
Bertram threw away his cigarette and stood up.
“Why didn’t you tell him it wasn’t true?” asked the girl.
“I didn’t think it was necessary,” said the Texan.
“Then I’m to assume that it was true?”
“I can’t help what folks assume.”
The girl turned away and began gathering up her horse’s trailing reins. “You need never come for that answer,” she said, “and the sooner you go away from here the better.”