Fraser was examining the dead man's wounds. He looked up, and said to his friend: “Nothing to do for him, Sig. He's gone.”
“I tell you, I didn't mean to do it,” pleaded Struve. “Why, lieutenant, that man has been trying to get me to ambush you for weeks. I'll swear it.” The convict was in a panic of terror, ready to curry favor with the man whom he held his deadliest enemy. “Yes, lieutenant, ever since you came here. He's been egging me on to kill you.”
“And you tried it three times?”
“No, sir.” He pointed vindictively at the dead man, lying face up on the floor. “It was him that ambushed you this morning. I hadn't a thing to do with it.”
“Don't lie, you coward.”
They carried the body to the next room and put it on a bed. Tommie was dispatched on a fast horse for help.
Late in the afternoon he brought back with him Doctor Lee, and half an hour after sunset Yorky and Slim galloped up. They were for settling the matter out of hand by stringing the convict Struve up to the nearest pine, but they found the ranger so very much on the spot that they reconsidered.
“He's my prisoner, gentlemen. I came in here and took him—that is, with the help of my friend Siegfried. I reckon if you mill it over a spell, you'll find you don't want him half as bad as we do,” he said mildly.
“What's the matter with all of us going in on this thing, lieutenant?” proposed Yorky.
“I never did see such a fellow for necktie parties as you are, Yorky. Not three weeks ago, you was invitin' me to be chief mourner at one of your little affairs, and your friend Johnson was to be master of ceremonies. Now you've got the parts reversed. No, I reckon we'll have to disappoint you this trip.”