“Perhaps it was old-time associations. He was a slave-trader once, and no doubt he stocked his ranch originally by raiding the Indians’ cattle. Then, when white people came around, and the Indians disappeared, he continued his depredations on less open lines.”
“Ah! slave-trader, was he? Who said?”
“Miss Marbolt innocently told me he once traded in the Indies in ‘black ivory.’ She did not understand.”
“Just so—ah, here is the wagon.”
Fyles rose leisurely to his feet. And Money drove up.
“The best of news, sheriff,” the latter cried at once. “Captured the lot. Some of the boys are badly damaged, but we’ve got ’em all.”
“Well, we’ll get back with this,” the officer replied quietly.
The dead man was lifted into the wagon, and, in a few minutes, the little party was on its way back to the ranch.