"I thought I left you in charge of the ranch," he said evenly.
The weather-stained face of the foreman reddened in the shifting lantern light, but the eyes did not drop.
"I have been. I just got here." A dignity which well became him spoke in the steady voice. "I had a reason for coming."
Ben released his gaze.
"The others are here too?"
"No, they're all at the ranch. Graham and I attended to that."
"I just saw Russell and Stetson. They couldn't possibly have got here to-day from home. Has—has this been planned?"
Grannis nodded. "Yes. Kennedy and his gang have been watching here and at the ranch for days. They thought you'd show up at one place or the other. The whole country is out. There are lots of strangers here, from ranches I never heard of before. Seems as though everybody knew Rankin and heard of his being shot. You'd better let them have it their way. It'll amount to the same in the end, and death itself couldn't stop them now."
He took a step forward; for Ben, understanding all, had at last moved on.
"Blair!" he called after him, again extending a detaining hand. His voice took on a new note—intimate, personal, a tone of which no one would have thought it capable. "Blair, listen to me! Stop!"