"About eight miles. Three miles back the road forks and the left-hand road goes to town. The regular automobile road don't go to Stacey."
"Well, I suppose there is nothing else to do. I'll try and turn around." And the girl backed the car and swung round in a wavering arc. When the car faced the east she stopped it.
Lorry rode alongside. She thanked him for his services. "And please don't do anything to that man," she pleaded. "He has been punished enough. You almost killed him. He looked so wretched. Can't you give him a good talking to and let him go?"
"I could, ma'am. But it ain't right. He'll try this here stunt again.
There's a reward out for him."
"But won't you—please!"
Lorry flushed. "You got a good heart all right, but you ain't been long in the West. Such as him steals hosses and holds up folks and robs trains—"
"But you're not an officer," she said, somewhat unkindly.
"I reckon any man is an officer when wimmin-folk is gettin' robbed. And
I aim to put him where he belongs."
"Thank you for helping us," said the girl's mother.
"You're right welcome, ma'am." And, raising his hat, Lorry turned and rode to where the man lay.