Here was one question Ridley could answer with the truth. He spoke swiftly, eagerly. "No."
His questioner exchanged looks with Homer Dinsmore and laughed. The Ranger had betrayed himself. He had been so quick to deny that he had been near the herd that his anxiety gave him away. They knew he suspected them of having rustled the stock grazing on the slope. Very likely he had already verified his doubts as to burnt brands.
Homer Dinsmore spoke for the first time. His voice was harsh. "Why don't you tell the truth? You came to get evidence against us."
"Evidence?" repeated Arthur dully.
"To prove we're rustlin' stock. You know damn well."
"Why, I—I—"
"And you didn't come alone. Ellison never sent a tenderfoot like you out except with others. Where are the rest of yore party? Come through."
"I'm alone." Arthur stuck to that doggedly.
"If he's got a bunch of Rangers back of him we better burn the wind outa here," suggested Gurley, looking around uneasily.
Overstreet looked at him with scorn and chewed tobacco imperturbably. "Keep yore shirt on, Steve. Time enough to holler when you're hurt."