“It does matter; it matters everything,” Janet cried, “if you really know something more!”
“Why?”
“Because it concerns Mr. Weir. The Joseph Weir 236 described and named in this affidavit was his father. He believes these men robbed his father; this paper proves it, but not absolutely, for Mexican evidence here in this country doesn’t carry as much weight against white men––especially men as rich and strong as these named––as it would in other places perhaps. You know that. This paper was obtained for Mr. Weir.”
“Oho, so that’s the way of it!” Johnson said, with a long drawn-out tone.
He regarded the paper in silence for a time, busy with his thoughts, absently twisting his beard, until at length a look of satisfaction grew on his face.
“Well, well, this is fine,” he went on presently. “I never thought I should be able to pay the obligation I owe him, and I won’t fully at that, but this will help. No, that paper doesn’t tell all, for I reckon Saurez didn’t see all.” He glanced triumphantly at the doctor and the girl. “But I did.”
“You!” both exclaimed.
But before he could explain, the memory of the cattleman’s threat recurred to Janet to banish thoughts of aught else than Weir’s danger from her mind.
“Mr. Sorenson said he was going up to the dam to shoot Mr. Weir,” she exclaimed. “We must give warning.”
“Did he say he was going himself?” Johnson asked.