“Don’t get on the prod, Frank,” advised the owner of the Circle J P. Voice and manner were still mild and harmless.
“No,” agreed Daniels, smiling. “How about it, Don?”
Black met his steady gaze sulkily. “Didn’t know there was a stampede till Jake told me so after he’d been at the ’phone.”
“I expect you’ll have a chance to prove that, Don. I got to arrest you.”
“What for?” demanded the dark man.
“For causing the death of that fellow in the cañon this mo’ning by stampeding cattle down the draw.”
“Any evidence, Frank?” This from Prowers, on whose face a thin lip smile rested.
“Some. Don made threats yesterday. He spent the day rounding-up cattle and drove ’em into Box Elder Cañon for the night. About nine in the evening he reached home an’ ate supper there, him and another fellow. They took the road back to the cañon before daybreak this mo’ning—not later than three o’clock. A friend of theirs stayed in the old Thorwaldson cabin to watch the stock. They ate breakfast with him.”
A flicker of fire burned in the skim-milk eyes. “My, Frank, you know a lot. Anything more?”
“Some things I don’t know, I only guess, Jake. I know Don an’ his friends had ham and cornbread and coffee for breakfast, but I don’t know yet who his two friends are.”