"I understood so."
"Understood? Why, that was the reason Arteaga gave for refusing to come along," broke in one of the other men. "I heard him."
"That's so; I did too, and I thought at the time a picnic for a woman and a priest was a mighty small excuse to give for evading—"
"Careful!" And the sheriff shot a warning glance at the speaker. "A newly married man was excused, even in Bible times, from going to the wars, so Arteaga's reason is all right."
"Just a moment," said Bryton. "I am as certain as it is possible to be of anything one does not see, that the boy tells the truth. She is there, and she is ill. Let him take the message."
"What makes you think so?" and the sheriff eyed him carefully. Bryton's jaw set stolidly, though his face flushed.
"I know it; that's all," he said, briefly, as he turned away.
"But—"
"The boy is speaking the truth; I know it!"
The sheriff looked after him a moment, and then spoke to one of the others.