The eyes of all the waiting group were opened wide with surprise, all eyes except the blue ones of Bernice Gallegher, otherwise Flame of Fire Weed.
"No need of further delay," said Sergt. Childress with authority. "Do your duty, Constable Mahaffy."
The veteran constable was so glad to be back in uniform after long service in ranch-hand disguise that he threw unusual feeling into the form of arrest and warning of Thomas Fitzrapp on the charge of horse stealing from the Rafter A and other ranches.
Ethel Andress and her uncle, after a moment of startled silence, turned accusing gaze on their trusted employee. For the moment Fitzrapp seemed stunned by the sudden turn which the case had taken.
"Come, Fitzrapp," said the sergeant in a tone that was persuasive, even though it did not lack in firmness, "you've run your course, and you might as well give up. You sold Canada to Dick Allen in Missoula, and it's one of the few honest sales you ever made. I bought him from Allen and have his bill-of-sale. I have proof that you are the head of the rustling band which has been ravishing the Fire Weed country. Indeed, except for a few miserable tools, you are the whole band. I suppose you thought you needed the dirty money to make good on your suit for the hand of your employer."
Mrs. Andress was turning away when first she noticed the presence of the Gallegher girl. Flame, in full womanly sympathy, sprang to her side to offer comfort.
"Just think what he's saved me from," murmured the widow.
"Yes, and isn't he just—just wonderful!" enthused Sam Gallegher's "firecracker."
"Come across clean, Fitzrapp," Childress was urging. "It will be the better for you. From the moment I had Canada brought out on the track this morning, you must have known that I was sure of my ground."
With a stubborn spirit that had always stood out in his character, Fitzrapp kept his lips closed and his eyes on the ground.