“Yes. But he said to look out for it, to watch it. I don’t understand——”
“I understand that that renegade McMasters is a thief and a scoundrel. We never orto of let him go!”
She could not make reply. The world was getting too much for her, overcoming.
“Sanchez!” she said pointing.
An exclamation broke from Nabours when he saw Sanchez fling an arm, heard his faint call. He got on a horse, galloped over to where Sanchez stood, dismounted. Then he also saw the dead man.
“I know-a-dis-a hombre, Señor Jeem!” Sanchez was excited. “We send-a heem to jail. I tie-a da foot. How come-a heem here while he’s in jail? Nombre de Dios!”
“But who killed him, Sanchez?”
Nabours saw the two wounds, an inch apart.
“Quien sabe, Señor?” replied Sanchez gravely. “I just find-a heem now.”
But the tired brain of Jim Nabours, up all night and strained to his limit over the scattered herd, only grew more muddled.