Mrs. Hartwell remained silent. They had not mentioned Jack since the night before.
“Too darned bad about old Ed,” continued Marsh. “They shot him down like a dog.”
“And who will pay for it, Marsh?” she asked.
“Pay for it? —— only knows. It was the sheep men who shot him, but the dirty spy who told them that old Ed was the guardian of Kiopo Pass is the real murderer.”
“Who would tell?”
“Who?” Marsh Hartwell’s features hardened. “Nobody knew it, except cattlemen. It was something that we guarded close. It was not the work of a spy; it was the deed of a traitor.”
“And you still accuse your own son, Marsh Hartwell?”
The big man laughed bitterly and turned toward the door.
“Jack is no traitor, Marsh,” she declared flatly.
“No?” Marsh turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I wish I could believe that, Mother. Last night Jack broke through our dead-line and went over to Eph King. He rode his horse over Gene Hill to get through. If he isn’t a traitor, what is he doin’ over there?”