CHAPTER XXIII
EVIDENCE FOR THE PROSECUTION
"Good—very good," said Kiddie. "He's captured; and you're sure he can't escape—eh?"
Nick Undrell laughed.
"Don't you alarm yourself any," he answered, dismounting from the bay horse. "He ain't goin' t' escape, that's sure."
"Very well," returned Kiddie, slinging his coiled lariat over the horn of his saddle. "In that case, I c'n afford to wait for your further explanations until we get along to my cabin. Sheriff Blagg is there, an' young Rube Carter."
He led his pony through the woodland by the same narrow trail that he had followed a few minutes earlier, and it was not long before they reached the stables.
"I presume," said Kiddie, when he was closing the door, leaving the two horses secure in their stalls, "that Broken Feather was ridin' my horse Regent when you laid him by the heels?"
"That's so," Nick answered; "the best hoss I've ever bin astride of. Yes, we waylaid him—middle of One Tree Gulch."