“He ain't spoke sence they brought him home,” said Margaret Bean—“not a word to the doctor nor nobody.”
“I couldn't get a word out of him,” announced the sheriff, stepping farther into the room. “In course, there was Burr's knife and Burr himself over him when the others came up, and that was proof enough; but still we kinder thought we'd like to have Lot's word for it afore he died, in case it came to hangin' with Burr; but I guess he's past speakin'. I miss my guess if he can sense anything we say.”
“Tell them—tell them I was the one who stabbed you, and Burr is innocent!” Madelon pleaded; but he smiled back at her unmoved.
Jonas Hapgood's great body shook with mirth. “Likely story a gal did it,” he chuckled.
“I did do it!” returned Madelon, fiercely, turning to him.
“I guess you don't want your beau hung.”
“I tell you I killed this man. I am the one to be hung!”
Chapter V
The sheriff turned to David Hautville. “Guess you'd better take your gal home,” he said, his red, bristling cheeks broad with laughter. “Guess she's kind of off her balance, she feels so bad about her beau.”
David's black eyes flashed haughtily at Jonas Hapgood, who straightened his face suddenly. He deigned not a word to him, but he turned to his daughter with a stern air. “Whether it is one way, or whether it is the other way,” said he, “we go neither by staying here. Come home.”