"There's only one thing to be done," he said. "Have you a pistol?"
"Haven't you?" his companion asked with a slight trace of astonishment in his tone.
"If I'd had one would I have wanted to borrow yours?" retorted Mr. Oliver.
"Well," said Mr. Barclay, "it's seldom I carry one, but in this case it seemed advisable." He put his hand into his pocket. "Here you are. It's a big caliber."
Mr. Oliver took the weapon and held it behind him, and turning back toward the horse, gently stroked its head. Then there was a flash and detonation, and the beast dropped like a stone. After a moment the rancher turned around with a very curious look in his eyes, with the smoking weapon clenched hard in his hand.
"I've had that faithful animal six years," he said in a harsh voice. "We'll get away."
They walked on in silence for a while, and then Mr. Barclay spoke.
"The breaking of its leg was probably an accident," he suggested.
"Yes," said Mr. Oliver. "It's possible he broke it after they turned him loose, but that doesn't seem to affect the case." He paused and looked around at his companion. "You understand that I'm with you right through this thing."
Nothing more was said until they approached the ranch, when Mr. Oliver turned to the boys.