"I'll take my chances with any honest man," returned Childress shortly.
"You're going to take chances with three and that in short order," snapped Murdock, and he turned to his companions, "Let's get down into Friday Gulch, where there's small chance of our being disturbed. Flame will be riding somewhere and we don't want her to be stumbling into the party. We'll give him a regular trial—settle the whole thing without any fuss or feathers."
Rust nodded approvingly. "Yuh be judge, Dick; I'll be jury, and Roper the cheerful executioner. Lead on!"
Short as it was, the ride across and down into the gulch fringed with cottonwoods was not a pleasant one for the sergeant. He did not doubt that the foreman already had in mind a punishment—one probably that would be humiliating rather than life-taking, and one that would leave the perpetrators comparatively safe from penalty. His keen mind went over every possibility of escape, and found none that would answer. He was hopelessly bound, his revolver was empty and his mount under rope. As a last resort he might declare himself and his mission, threatening them with the wrath of the Scarlet. But scarcely would they believe him under the circumstances, even if they found the black badge of the Mounted which he carried in a secret pocket. If they gave him the slightest chance, he would lay into them and inflict as much damage as he could. But if there was no opening, he felt sure he could endure the punishment without a whimper. In that belief lay his chief consolation. They never would have the fun of hearing him plead for mercy.
"Get him out of the saddle, boys, and put hobbles on him," ordered Murdock, when they had reached the bottom of the small canyon which nature had cut into the hillside at a sharp right angle. "We'll hold this court in style."
Childress felt that the time had arrived for protest and warning. Had he been making an arrest in his official capacity he would have been required to offer caution that whatever was said might be used against the prisoner. If these three persisted, he one day would be called upon to proceed against them. His calmness was icy when he began; his entire manner should have served as a warning.
"You're making a sorry mistake, men. I'm as honest as any of you. Never stole a horse nor lifted a hide in my life. I own a small ranch in this region, as I guess you've heard. I'm raising and breaking some horses on my own. Yesterday I decided to ride over and make the acquaintance of the Lazy G outfit. I came upon a bogged-down steer that just had been skinned alive. I fired a mercy shot and took up the trail. Lost my man in the rough of a ridge the other side of the line. Got his horse and the hide, though, and was bringing them in when came this uncalled for attack by ropes. All I ask is that you take me to your home ranch and let Gallegher decide. Otherwise——"
"Can the talk," cut in Murdock. "The old man's too damned merciful in his old age. He won't have any stock left unless we curb this rustling. You're going to haye some he-men decide your case and I'll bet when the verdict's in you'll keep to the States where you belong."
Childress had made no mention of the fact that Flame Gallegher had been with him when he put the bogged steer out of its misery or that she had undertaken one angle of the pursuit where the trail had seemed to fork. It was evident that she had said nothing at home about meeting him, a silence for which she doubtless had excellent reasons of her own. He would respect that silence, come what might.
The three Lazy G riders drew off a bit for consultation, leaving him, thoroughly trussed, seated on a fallen log. They were not beyond earshot, although their conversation did not seem to be intended for him.