"Haven't heard anything yet; haven't been here long enough to learn much."
This untruth brought a flush over Jack Wade's face, but it was not seen by the girl, the darkness being too deep.
"He was killed by the Nightriders," she said, choking; "shot to death when his home was burned."
"So that's the course pursued with a fellow here, is it?" Wade's lips curled scornfully.
"Sometimes, an' sometimes they don't. It's accordin' to what the other feller is about."
"What has a fellow to do to bring about such an end as that served out to old John Redmond?"
"Nuthin'. Old John didn't do nuthin'; that's what the trouble was."
"Who are the Nightriders?" asked Wade, after a moment's thought.
"Say, stranger," said the girl at this juncture, and evasively, "here's my home, an' ye better git now. Ef Dad ketches ye here he mou't do to ye like them fellers done old John Redmond, so I says much obleege fer helpin' me fetch the old brindle cow home."
"I'll help you any time I can," he said.