“Not a thing, Buffalo Bill,” protested Dunbar. “I was hiking for the ranch when Bloom, and three cowboys, came slashing up alongside my horse, with their guns out. They ordered me to lift my hands. I did as they told me. Bloom hunted through my saddlebags and pulled out the diamonds. That was the first time I ever saw them.”
“Likely yarn,” grunted Bloom. “Caught with the goods on, an’ you haven’t the nerve to own up.”
“I didn’t take the diamonds!” cried Dunbar angrily.
“You’ll have a chance to prove it in court. And I reckon you won’t prove it. You’ll go to the nearest ‘pen,’ and that’ll stop these troubles in the cow country.”
The scout turned slowly and swept his eyes over Bloom.
“You’re doing a heap of talking, seems to me,” said he, “for a man who’s merely an officer of the law. What is it to you whether Dunbar goes free, or goes over the road? Anything personal in it for you?”
The sheriff scowled but did not reply.
“He’s a friend of Lige Benner’s,” declared Dunbar, “and no friend of Perry’s or mine. While we were having our hard time on the Brazos, he was throwing the gaff into us every chance he got.”
“You’re a pill,” scowled Bloom, “and you ought to be run out of the country. That’s how I feel.”
“Well,” said the scout scathingly, “be advised by me, Bloom, and don’t let your personal spite interfere with your duties as a public officer.”