"What's all this, boys?" asked the ranchman.
Sage-brush, as foreman, explained: "This yere's Peruna of the Lazy K outfit."
Allen looked at the prisoner, who maintained a sullen silence. "What's he been doin'?"
"Mostly everything, but Fresno caught red-handed brandin' one of our yearlin's," cried Sage-brush.
"It's a lie!" broke in Peruna, glancing doggedly from one to another of his guards. He knew death was the penalty of the crime of which he stood accused. He felt that a stout denial would gain him time, and that Buck and his outfit might come up and save him.
"Polite your conversation in the presence of a lady," cried Parenthesis, nodding toward Echo.
"That calf was follerin' my cow," answered Peruna sullenly.
"It was follerin' one of our longhorned Texas cows with the Sweetwater brand spread all over her," shouted Show Low, moving menacingly toward the cowering Peruna.
"Fresno he calls him," continued Sage-brush, taking up the story; "an' this yere Peruna—drinking bad turns loose his battery and wings Fresno some bad—then little Billie Nicker comes along, and Peruna plugs him solid."
Poor Billie had been Show Low's bunkie on many a long drive. That veteran now paid this last tribute to his friend. "Billie, who ain't never done no harm to no one—"