"Hurts, don't it? Shouldn't wonder. Yes, sir, them ninety-five Barred Twin Diamonds yuh bought offen Bill Archer o' Marysville an' shipped from Damson was all stole from Scotty Mackenzie's Flying M ranch up north near Paradise Bend, in the Dogsoldier valley."
"Why—why—I don't understand," stuttered Mr. Cram. "I don't believe a word of it."
Mr. Cram became suddenly aware of the exceeding chilliness in a pair of gray eyes.
"Meanin' how?" queried Loudon, softly.
"Well, of course, I believe you're acting in good faith, but—— Oh, come inside."
"No need. My train's due in thirty minutes. Scotty Mackenzie an' his foreman Doubleday will come down here an' prove ownership in about a week or so."
"But I've just sold that bunch to a firm in Omaha!"
"Yuh won't ship 'em. Yuh see, I thought o' yore sellin' 'em, an' I woke up Judge Curran at six o'clock an' got him to issue a injunction against yore shippin' 'em. So I guess yuh'll keep 'em till Scotty comes. Yep, I guess yuh will, Mr. Cram. See, here comes the marshal now. Looks like that white paper he's got might be the injunction, don't it?"