The stranger blanched. “You call me a—”
But Young Van checked him. “We don’t know that he is a horse thief.”
“I do, and that’s enough. Charlie, take him off, and make a clean job of it.”
“Charlie,” cried Young Van, “stay where you are!” He turned hotly on his brother. “The worst we have any reason to believe about this man is that he put up that placard.”
“Well, doesn’t that prove him one of the gang?”
“We have no proof of anything.”
“You keep out of this, Gus! Charlie, do as I tell you.”
Charlie hesitated, and looked inquiringly at the younger engineer. This drove Old Van beyond reason. He suddenly snatched the revolver from the cook, shouting angrily: “If you won’t obey orders, I’ll see to it myself!”
But Young Van, with a quick movement, gripped the weapon, bent it back out of his brother’s grasp, snapped it open, ejected the cartridges, and silently returned it. Old Van held it in his hand and looked at it, then at the five cartridges, where they had fallen on the ground. Then, with an expression his brother had never before seen on his face, he let the weapon fall on the ground among the cartridges, and walked away to the headquarters tent.