"Well, get up here in front and come along. We've got twenty-one miles ahead of us. Let's go."
"I know what you want me for," Bass said, "but you're wrong, Lafe. I didn't do it."
"How do you know it was done, then?" said Lafe. "Only three of us knew when I left the ranch. That was five minutes after we done found him."
His prisoner did not explain, but climbed obediently into the saddle in front of Johnson. Riding thus balanced, the horse could carry both, but it was punishing work, and not until eleven hours later did they make the county town. Lafe turned his prisoner over to the sheriff and saw him safely in jail under lock and key. As he was leaving, he said: "Here's your knife."
"Where did you find it?"
"Where you threw it."
"I done lost it at the dance," said Bass.
On this Johnson placed the knife in the sheriff's keeping, to be used as Exhibit A. When his arm had been dressed, he returned to the Anvil headquarters.
All the guests had departed and, though Mrs. Horne was prostrated and the cowman much perturbed, the cowboys of the outfit had started on their roundup. A trifle like a murder must not interfere with business. When he had driven Hetty and the boy home, Lafe joined the chuckwagon at the camp on Bull Creek and took charge of operations.
After supper on the first night Johnson took part in a game of pitch. It was not his habit to play with his men, as being subversive of discipline, but he was worried and needed distraction. Baptismo, the half-breed, was in the game. He was working through the roundup as strayman for the Gourd. Although Lafe lost, the play excited him to cheeriness and he began to drone, as he riffled the cards—