"Your own riders made it up for us when they murdered poor Jesus Menendez."
"A bad break, that—and me a prisoner here. Some of the boys had been out on the range a week. I reckon they didn't know I was the rat in your trap."
"So much the worse for you."
"Looks like," Weaver nodded. Then he added, almost carelessly: "I expect there wouldn't be any use mentioning the law to you? It's here to punish the man that shot Menendez."
"Not a bit of use. You own the sheriff and half the juries in this county. Besides, we've got the man right here that is responsible for the killing of poor Jesus."
"Oh! If you look at it that way, of course——"
"That's the way to look at it I don't blame your riders any more than I blame the guns they fired. You did that killing."
"Even though I was locked up on your ranch, more than twenty miles away."
"That makes no difference."
"Seems to me it makes some," suggested Keller, speaking for the first time. "His riders may have acted contrary to orders. He surely did not give any specific orders in this case."