“What are you out here for, anyway?”
Jim glanced from the doctor to Smallbones, and then on at the rest of the men. They were all cattlemen, none of them were villagers. He laughed suddenly.
“Say, is this an––er––inquisition?”
“Sure.” The doctor’s reply rapped out tartly.
“Well, that being the way of things, guess I’d best tell you first as last. You see, I got back to the village yesterday afternoon. As maybe you know, I’ve been out nearly two days on the trail. Well, late last night, Elia Marsham came to me with a yarn about a hollow in the hills, where he said he’d seen the rustlers at work. He told me how to find it, an’––well, I hit the trail. I hoped to head you, and get ’em myself, but,” with a shrug, “I guess I was a fool some. My plug petered out two hours back, and I had to quit. You see he was stale at the start.”
“An’ this trail?” snapped the doctor.
“I was way back there down the river a goodish piece, getting a sleep by the bush, and easing my plug, when I woke up quick. Seemed to me I heard a gunshot. Maybe I was dreaming. Anyway I sat up and took notice, but didn’t see a thing. So, after a while, I got dozing again. Then my plug started to neigh, and kept whinnying. I got around then, guessing something was 296 doing. So I started to chase up the river. Then I found this trail. It’s new, fresh done this morning, sure. Guess it must have been some feller passing that worried my horse. You say you’re on this trail? Whose? It isn’t––eh?” as the doctor nodded. “Then come right on down to the river. We’re losing time.”
Jim turned to lead his horse away, but Smallbones laughed. There was no mistaking the derision, the challenge of that laugh. Jim turned again, and the look he favored the hardware dealer with was one that did not escape the doctor, who promptly interposed.
“If you’re right an’ he’s wrong, you’ve got time in plenty to correct him later, Jim,” he said, in his stern fashion. “Meanwhiles you’ll keep your face closed, Smallbones, or––light right out.” Then he turned back to Jim. “Ther’ ain’t a heap o’ hurry now, boy, fer that feller. His horse was nigh done,” he went on, glancing at the dejected creature Jim was leading. “Done jest about as bad as yours. An’ his plug was the same color, and he was rigged out much as you are.” Then his tone became doubly harsh. “Say, the feller we’re chasin’ was your build. He was so like you in cut, and his plug so like yours, that if I put it right here to the vote I’m guessin’ you’d hang so quick you’d wonder how it was done. But then, you see, I’ve got two eyes, an’ some elegant savvee, which some folks ain’t blessed with,” with an eye in Smallbones’ direction. “An’ I tell you right here ther’s just the fact your plug is stone cold between you an’ a rawhide rope. You jest couldn’t be the man we’re chasin’ ’less you’re capable o’ miracles. Get me? But I’m goin’ to do some straight talk. Not more than ten minutes gone the feller we’re after shot down one o’ the 297 boys back ther’ over the rise. That boy was on a fast hoss, an’ was close on that all-fired Dago’s heels. Wal, he got it plenty, an’ we’re goin’ back to bury that honest citizen later. Meanwhiles, ten minutes gone that rustler got down here, an’ as you say, made that river, an’ you––you didn’t see him. Get me? You’re jest goin’ to show me wher’ you sat.”
For a second Jim’s heart seemed to stand still. He was not used to lying. However, he realized only too well how the least hesitation would surely hang him, and he promptly nodded his head.