That beautiful flash left his face as he wheeled to the men. He wrung Dale's hand long and hard, and his gaze confused the older man.
“RIGGS!” he said, and in the jerk of his frame as he whipped out the word disappeared the strange, fleeting signs of his kindlier emotion.
“Wilson killed him,” replied Dale.
“Jim Wilson—that old Texas Ranger!... Reckon he lent you a hand?”
“My friend, he saved Bo,” replied Dale, with emotion. “My old cougar an' me—we just hung 'round.”
“You made Wilson help you?” cut in the hard voice.
“Yes. But he killed Riggs before I come up an' I reckon he'd done well by Bo if I'd never got there.”
“How about the gang?”
“All snuffed out, I reckon, except Wilson.”
“Somebody told me Beasley hed ran Miss Helen off the ranch. Thet so?”