A moment Keith seemed to hesitate, plainly puzzled by the situation and endeavoring to see some way of escape; then his lips smiled, and he silently unhooked the belt, handing it over.
“Sure, I know you're square, Hicks,” he said, coolly. “And now I've unlimbered, kindly inform me what this is all about.”
“I reckon yer don't know.”
“No more than an unborn babe. I have been here but an hour.”
“That's it: if yer had been longer thar wouldn't be no trouble. Yo're wanted for killin' a couple o' men out at Cimmaron Crossin' early yesterday mornin'.”
Keith stared at him too completely astounded for the instant to even speak. Then he gasped.
“For God's sake, Hicks, do you believe that?”
“I'm damned if I know,” returned the marshal, doubtfully. “Don't seem like ye'd do it, but the evidence is straight 'nough, an' thar ain't nothin' fer me ter do but take ye in. I ain't no jedge an' jury.”
“No, but you ought to have ordinary sense, an' you've known me for three years.”
“Sure I have, Jack, but if yer've gone wrong, you won't be the first good man I've seen do it. Anyhow, the evidence is dead agin you, an' I'd arrest my own grand-dad if they give me a warrant agin him.”