“A friend,” replied the stranger, in a weak voice.
Ross permitted his visitor to ride up to the pole. “I can’t ask you in,” he explained. “I’ve a sick man inside. Who are you, and what can I do for you?”
Notwithstanding this warning the rider dropped from his saddle, and came into the light which streamed from the door.
“My name is Dunn,” he began. “I’m from Deer Creek.”
“I know you,” responded the ranger. “You’re that rancher I saw working in the ditch the day I went to telephone, and you’ve come to tell me something about that murder.”
The other man broke into a whimper. “I’m a law-abiding man, Mr. Cavanagh,” he began, tremulously. “I’ve always kept the law, and never intended to have anything to do with that business. I was dragged into it against my will. I’ve come to you because you’re an officer of the Federal law. You don’t belong here. I trust you. You represent the President, and I want to tell you what I know—only I want you to promise not to bring me into it. I’m a man of a family, and I can’t bear to have them know the truth.”
There was deep agitation and complete sincerity in the rancher’s choked and hesitant utterance, and Cavanagh turned cold with a premonition of what he was about to disclose. “I am not an officer of the law, Mr. Dunn, not in the sense you mean, but I will respect your wishes.”
“I know that you are not an officer of the county law, but you’re not a cattle-man. It is your business to keep the peace in the wild country, and you do it, everybody knows that; but I can’t trust the officers of this country, they’re all afraid of the cowboys. You’re not afraid, and you represent the United States, and I’ll tell you. I can’t bear it any longer!” he wailed. “I must tell somebody. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat. I’ve been like a man in a nightmare ever since. I had no hand in the killing—I didn’t even see it done; but I knew it was going to happen. I saw the committee appointed. The meeting that decided it was held in my barn, but I didn’t know what they intended to do. You believe me, don’t you?” He peered up at Cavanagh with white face and wild eyes.
“Go on,” replied the ranger; “I’ll protect you—if I can. Go on. It’s your duty—tell all you know.”
The troubled man, after a little silence, resumed. “Sometimes I feel that I’d be happier in jail than I am walking about in the sunshine. I never dreamed civilized men could do such deeds. I thought they were only going to scare the herders and drive them out, as they’ve done so many times before. I can see now that they used my barn for a meeting-place because everybody believed me to be a man of peace. And I am. I’m over seventy years of age, Mr. Cavanagh, and I’ve been a law-abiding citizen all my life.”