“Cheer up yourself, you cross old bachelor!” retorted Roy, quite unnecessarily loud. “Can't you raise enough nerve to make up with Bo?”
Carmichael evacuated the doorway as if he had been spurred. He was quite red in the face while he unhitched the team, and silent during the ride up to the ranch-house. There he got down and followed the girls into the sitting room. He appeared still somber, though not sullen, and had fully regained his composure.
“Did you find out who shot Roy?” he asked, abruptly, of Helen.
“Yes. But I promised Roy I would not tell,” replied Helen, nervously. She averted her eyes from his searching gaze, intuitively fearing his next query.
“Was it thet—Riggs?”
“Las Vegas, don't ask me. I will not break my promise.”
He strode to the window and looked out a moment, and presently, when he turned toward Bo, he seemed a stronger, loftier, more impelling man, with all his emotions under control.
“Bo, will you listen to me—if I swear to speak the truth—as I know it?”
“Why, certainly,” replied Bo, with the color coming swiftly to her face.
“Roy doesn't want me to know because he wants to meet thet fellar himself. An' I want to know because I want to stop him before he can do more dirt to us or our friends. Thet's Roy's reason an' mine. An' I'm askin' YOU to tell me.”