He sat down on the grass triumphantly.
It seemed to Bud Larkin as though some gigantic club had descended on the top of his head and numbed all his senses. Careful as he had been, this wily devil had led him into a labyrinthic maze of questions, the end of which was a concealed precipice. And, like one of his own sheep, he had leaped over it at the leader’s call!
He looked at the faces of his judges. They were all dark now and perplexed. Even Billy Speaker seemed convinced. Bud admitted to himself that his only chance was to refute Stelton’s damaging inference. But how?
The cowmen were beginning to talk in low tones among themselves and there was not much time. Suddenly an idea came. With a difficult effort he controlled his nervous trepidation.
“Men,” he said, “Stelton did not pursue his questions far enough.”
“What d’yuh mean by that?” asked Bissell, glaring at him savagely.
“I mean that he did not ask me what Caldwell actually did with the money I gave him. He made you believe that Smithy used it for the rustlers with my consent. That is a blamed lie!”
“What did he do with it?” cried Billy Speaker.
“Ask Stelton,” shouted Bud, suddenly leaping 173 out of his chair and pointing an accusing finger at the foreman. “He seems to know so much about everything, ask him!”
The foreman, dazed by the unexpected attack, turned a surprised and harrowed countenance toward the men as he scrambled to his feet. He cast quick, fearful glances in Larkin’s direction, as though attempting to discover how much of certain matters that young man actually knew.