The others nodded approvingly; but Glendon's eyes narrowed and he faced Limber in sudden fury.
"Look here, Limber, you're an old friend, but don't presume too far. I'm not as big a fool as you think I am. You mind your own business, damn you! What's my wife to you anyhow? You and Powell have butted in a good bit in my family affairs!"
Limber's face was white; his right hand flashed to his pistol, then fell away. His eyes stared in dumb misery toward the house. The other men saw Katherine Glendon standing in the doorway. Every head was bared instantly. She understood that something was wrong, and an expression of dread darkened her eyes as she moved to her husband's side.
"What is it, Jim?" she asked.
Glendon kicked the gravel but no one answered. Then as her eyes moved from face to face, she recognized Limber.
"What is wrong, Limber?"
The cowpuncher kept his eyes on the horn of his saddle. He would have shot Glendon for the insult passed, but he could not force himself to tell Glendon's wife their mission.
Graham cursed inwardly. Glendon's lips wore an ugly smile, and he refused to speak.
"The train was robbed again last night, Mrs. Glendon," explained Graham, at last. "Three-fingered Jack was killed. He made a statement accusing Glendon and Alpaugh. We're all friends of Glendon's and don't believe the story was true; but we have to take him back with us. We can't help ourselves."
Katherine held tightly to the picket fence while the man was speaking.