“Get up,” commanded the sheriff. He unbuckled the irons from his prisoner’s legs.
The man with the scar rose. “Nobody’ll ever find that cabin or what’s in it,” he said doggedly. “And when Bill dies——”
“Oh, my God!” It was the father.
The doctor was leaning in the doorway. “What’d you do this for, Mr. Eastman?” he asked.
The tears were streaming down Eastman’s face. “We thought the Sheriff ought to come,” he faltered. “The boy’s mother is frantic. And this seemed the surest way.” The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ve lost our best chance,” he said.
“See here, Doc,” broke in the sheriff. “I made the capture. And I want you to understand when we find the boy I’m entitled to the reward.”
The other turned astonished eyes upon him. “Reward?” he repeated.
“You mean to say you didn’t know there’s five thousand offered?”
“So that’s why you done this,” said the doctor, and shrugged his shoulders. “You know, I’ve heerd tell of fellers that put their foot in it. You’ve got your’n in plumb to the knee.”
“I’ll come out all right,” retorted the sheriff boastfully. “I’ll send for dogs. There’s three in Sacramento. I can have ’em here in eighteen hours.”