“Will you put him in jail?” asked Dawn anxiously.
“I wish I had him there now,” said Roaring. “He’d be safe in jail. Let’s go and have a talk with him. Where’s your pa, Dawn?”
“He went to the 7AL this afternoon and hasn’t come home yet.”
“All right; let’s see Pete.”
Dawn and Jimmy mounted, and they rode to the ranch-house. Pete met them in the living-room. He had covered his split lips with court-plaster. He seemed to realize that something was wrong, and stepped back toward the entrance to the kitchen, as if preparing for a quick retreat.
“Better stay here, Pete,” said the sheriff warningly, as he closed the door behind him.
“What do you want?” asked Pete warily.
“Mallette was shot and killed tonight. What do you know about it, Pete?”
Pete stiffened slightly and his eyes shifted from face to face.
“Mallette shot, eh?” He smiled crookedly. “I don’t care; he was a thief. Jimmy Moran knows; he saw him steal.”