Buck’s companion swung from the saddle, took his lariat, and came to the veranda. From inside the house came a shrill high scream of grief; the señora had learned the news. Then Estella appeared again, and saw the puncher with the rope.
“Oh, you mustn’t!” she cried out, running forward. “He didn’t do it; he couldn’t have done it, Mr. Buck! Why——”
“Ma’am, we seen the whole thing,” said Buck regretfully. “And this gent is mighty slick, but we’ll turn him in to the law to be dealt with. That’s all we aim to do.”
“Oh, tell them, tell them!” Estella turned her tear-stained eyes to Robinson. “You can make them believe when——”
“I’m afraid Mr. Buck is right stubborn and set in his ways,” sighed Robinson. “Nope, they ain’t a bit o’ use in me spillin’ any talk to him, Stella! Sure’s my name’s Jack Robinson, there ain’t. I met Miguel on the way here, as I said, but——”
Buck nodded to his rider, who approached Robinson and deftly knotted his wrists behind his back.
“Put him on my horse,” said Buck quietly, “and take him into town. Hand him over to Sheriff Tracy—and see that nothing happens to him. Don’t tell any one but the sheriff what’s happened, savvy? We don’t want to rouse up any necktie party in town. This is a matter for the law—open-and-shut case.”
“Quite so,” observed Robinson ironically. “Quite so! We’ll get to town all right, Buck—won’t we, cowboy? Lead on, and don’t pull too hard on that cord. My wrists is real tender lately. See you later, Stella; don’t you worry none whatever about this deal. Trust Jake Harper to see that the cards are dealt honest.”
The girl stared after him, stricken in her grief.
Without attempt at protest, Robinson mounted into the saddle of Buck, and allowed the puncher to tie his ankles beneath the horse. Then the puncher mounted, and started for town. The two figures rode away from the ranch, and lessened in the distance.