Cairness sat across him and held a revolver to his mouth. The life of the plains teaches agility of various sorts, but chiefly in the matter of drawing a six-shooter. "You fired the corrals," Cairness gasped.
The fall had knocked the breath from his body. The under dog did not answer.
"And you hamstrung those horses."
No answer still.
"Why did you do it?"
No answer.
"I'll break your jaws if you don't open them." The jaws opened forthwith, but no sound came, and Lawton struggled feebly.
It occurred to Cairness then that with no breath in your lungs and with twelve stone on your chest, speech is difficult. He slid off and knelt beside the rancher, still with the revolver levelled. "Now, why did you do it, eh?" He enforced the "eh" with a shake.
"I dunno. I didn't."
"Didn't you, then? You did, though, and you can go back with me till we find out why. Give me your firearms. Lively!"