He stripped his automobile gloves for action.
CHAPTER XII
“IS THIS BIRD A PRISONER, OR AIN’T HE?”
While Dr. Rayburn, with Betty and Forbes to wait upon him, made preparations to dress the wound, Sheriff Daniels listened to the story of the ranchman. The officer was a hard-headed Westerner who applied common sense to the business of maintaining law and order.
“Looks like that tramp Cig did it, unless this young fellow is passing the buck for an alibi,” he said in a low voice.
Reed shook his head. “No, Frank. This boy’s all right. I thought at first he might be in it, but I know now he wasn’t. He helped my girl out of a hole yesterday—licked this Cig because he got fresh with Bess. Even before that he had parted company with the other two. You’ll go to barkin’ up the wrong tree if you suspect him.”
The sheriff looked at Tug. The vagrant was standing beside the piano glancing at the music piled on top of it. Ragged, dusty, and unshaven, he was not a prepossessing youth. Livid and purple bruises ridged his pallid cheeks. Daniels found in the face something not quite normal, and, since he was a clean outdoor man himself, an unhealthy variation from the usual stirred in him a slight feeling of distrust.
“By yore way of it, Clint, you beat up this hobo here for trespassing on yore land. I’d say from the looks of him you gave him a plenty. Does it look reasonable to you that he’d trail the other hobo for miles to protect you from him?”
“Not to protect me, Frank. He gave it to me straight it wasn’t for me. ’Seems he got to worryin’ about what this Cig might do to the children. The fellow had been talkin’ about kidnapping and how easy it could be pulled off. So this one—Tug he calls himself—followed Cig here. Looks reasonable to me. He’s game. You’d ought to have seen him come at me with his legs wobbling under him. Well, a game man doesn’t make war on women and kids, does he?”
“Our kind of man doesn’t. But he’s not our kind. Looks to me like a dope fiend. Expect he’s got a lot of these anarchist ideas tramps are carryin’ around the country nowadays. I don’t say he’s guilty. What I do say is that I’m not convinced he’s innocent. Far as being game goes, this other man Cig is game enough, too, by what you say. Stood the gaff, and then bawled you out, didn’t he?”
“He’s game like a cornered wolf. I tell you this one’s different. He’s an educated man gone wrong. At first I didn’t get him right myself.”