“Guess I must have,” replied Riggs, sullenly.
“But you knowed her from her sister afore you come to my camp?”
Riggs shook his head. He was paler now and sweating more freely. The dank hair hung wet over his forehead. His manner was that of a man suddenly realizing he had gotten into a tight place.
“Oh, he's a liar!” exclaimed Bo, with contemptuous ring in her voice. “He comes from my country. He has known Nell and me for years.”
Snake Anson turned to look at Wilson.
“Jim, now hyar's a queer deal this feller has rung in on us. I thought thet kid was pretty young. Don't you remember Beasley told us Nell Rayner was a handsome woman?”
“Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain't handsome my eyes have gone pore,” drawled Wilson.
“A-huh! So your Texas chilvaree over the ladies is some operatin',” retorted Anson, with fine sarcasm. “But thet ain't tellin' me what you think?”
“Wal, I ain't tellin' you what I think yet. But I know thet kid ain't Nell Rayner. For I've seen her.”
Anson studied his right-hand man for a moment, then, taking out his tobacco-pouch, he sat himself down upon a stone and proceeded leisurely to roll a cigarette. He put it between his thin lips and apparently forgot to light it. For a few moments he gazed at the yellow ground and some scant sage-brush. Riggs took to pacing up and down. Wilson leaned as before against the cedar. The girl slowly recovered from her excess of anger.