"Oh, but, Dad, you can't do that. You'll have to give an explanation.
You'll have to—"
"The best explanation I can give, Joy, is to find out who held up the stage and killed Tim Harrigan. It's the only one that will satisfy me. It's the only one that will satisfy my friends."
"That's true," said Sanders.
"Steve Russell is bringin' hawsses," said Bob. "We'll ride out to the Bend to-night and be ready for business there at the first streak of light. Must be some trail left by the hold-ups."
Crawford shook his head. "Probably not. Applegate had a posse out there right away. You know Applegate. He'd blunder if he had a chance. His boys have milled all over the place and destroyed any trail that was left."
"We'll go out anyhow—Dave and Steve and I. Won't do any harm. We're liable to discover something, don't you reckon?"
"Maybeso. Who's that knockin' on the door, Joy?"
Some one was rapping on the front door imperatively. The girl opened it, to let into the hall a man in greasy overalls.
"Where's Mr. Crawford?" he demanded excitedly.
"Here. In the sitting-room. What's wrong?"