Blank silence ensued. Ellen cast a slow glance over her father and the others, then she began to loosen the cinches of her saddle. Presently Jorth burst the silence with a curse, and Daggs followed with one of his sardonic laughs.
“Wal, boss, what did I tell you?” he drawled.
Jorth strode to Ellen, and, whirling her around with a strong hand, he held her facing him.
“Did y’u see Isbel?”
“Yes,” replied Ellen, just as sharply as her father had asked.
“Did y’u talk to him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want up heah?”
“I told y’u. He was tracking the black horse y’u stole.”
Jorth’s hand and arm dropped limply. His sallow face turned a livid hue. Amaze merged into discomfiture and that gave place to rage. He raised a hand as if to strike Ellen. And suddenly Daggs’s long arm shot out to clutch Jorth’s wrist. Wrestling to free himself, Jorth cursed under his breath. “Let go, Daggs,” he shouted, stridently. “Am I drunk that you grab me?”