"Father, it was our friend from the Bend," she said. "He happened along."
Anderson suddenly changed to the cool, smiling man Kurt remembered.
"Howdy, Kurt?" he said, and crushed Kurt's hand. "What'd you do to him?"
Kurt made a motion toward the back of the car. Then Anderson looked over the seats. With that he opened the door and in one powerful haul he drew Ruenke sliding out into the road. Ruenke's bruised and bloody face was uppermost, a rather gruesome sight. Anderson glared down upon him, while men from the other cars crowded around. Ruenke's eyes resembled those of a cornered rat. Anderson's jaw bulged, his big hands clenched.
"Bill, you throw this fellow in your car and land him in jail. I'll make a charge against him," said the rancher.
"Mr. Anderson, I can save some valuable time," interposed Kurt. "I've got to return a car I broke down. And there's my wheat. Will you have one of these men drive me back?"
"Sure. But won't you come home with us?" said Anderson.
"I'd like to. But I must get home," replied Kurt. "Please let me speak a few words for your ear alone." He drew Anderson aside and briefly told about the eighty thousand dollars; threw back his coat to show the bulging pockets. Then he asked Anderson's advice.
"I'd deposit the money an' wire the Spokane miller," returned the rancher. "I know him. He'll leave the money in the bank till your wheat is safe. Go to the national bank in Kilo. Mention my name."
Then Kurt told Anderson of the plot against his fortunes and his life.