He seemed to calculate, but she insisted, leaning closer to him:
"How many calves?"
"Why, not more'n half of 'em got calves."
"Sure? Not more than half?"
"Why ... I guess—"
"And you've got sixteen young calves in this pen! How do you account for that?"
A murmur ran among her men and Cole looked at her with fright in his eyes.
"I dunno!" he suddenly burst out, voice trembling. "I dunno nothin' about it. You've all got me here an' are pickin' on me. I didn't steal anything. I thought they was all mine." And then, in a broken, repressedly frantic appeal: "I don't want to go to jail again. I don't know nothin'...."
"Again?" she said, quite gently.
He looked at her and nodded slowly. The little resistance he had offered her was gone; his limbs trembled and his eyes had that whipped, abject look that a broken spirited dog will show.