Betty stood up and waited, her eyes fastened on them as they moved forward. Her heart was going like a triphammer. She knew what she dreaded, and presently that her apprehensions were justified.
The foreman’s prisoner was the tramp who called himself Tug.
CHAPTER X
“ONE SQUARE GUY”
From Betty’s cheeks the delicate wild-rose bloom had fled. Icy fingers seemed to clutch at her heart and squeeze the blood from it. This was the worst that could happen, since she knew her father was not wounded to death.
Lon spoke, grimly. “Bumped into him down the creek a ways—hidin’ in the willows. Heard a rustling an’ drapped in on him onexpected. Thought he wouldn’t come with me at first, then he changed his mind an’ thought he would.”
The tramp said nothing. His dogged eyes passed from Betty to her father. She thought there leaped into them a little flicker of surprise when they fell upon the ranchman sitting on the ground with his leg bound up.
“Have you taken his gun from him?” Reed asked.
“Couldn’t find it. He must ’a’ throwed it away.” The foreman passed an exploring hand over the body of the prisoner to make sure that he had not missed a concealed weapon. “No, sir. He ain’t got a gat with him now, unless he’s et it.”
“Take him to the bunkhouse and keep him guarded. We’ll ’phone for the sheriff. Soon as you get to the house call up Doc Rayburn and have him run right out. Then hook up a team and come get me,” the ranch-owner directed.
From the fog of Betty’s distress a small voice projected itself. “You’re not going to send for the sheriff without making sure, Dad?”