Doc Crombie's anger was hot against the hardware dealer. He meant ruling against him in the end, but he was not quite sure how that ruling would be generally received. He was now listening to a final appeal from Peter in the hopes of gleaning something that might help him when he finally set his foot on the neck of Smallbones' charges.

"See here, fellers," Peter said, with a quiet directness of manner, but in a voice that rose above the hum of general talk, and at once silenced it, "you've heard a whole heap of 'tosh' from Smallbones and his gang. I tell you that feller's got a mind as big as a pea, and with just about as much wind in it. You've heard him accuse Jim Thorpe of cattle stealing on evidence which we all know, and which wouldn't convince a kid of ten, by reason of its absurd simplicity. Do I need to ask sensible men such as you if any sane rustler is going to do the things which you're trying to say Jim Thorpe did? Is any sane rustler going to use his own brand, and run stolen cattle with his legitimate stock, in a place where folks can always see 'em? Sure, sure you don't need to ask yourselves even. Jim Thorpe's been a straight man all his days in Barnriff. 'Honest Jim Thorpe' you've all many a time called him. I tell you this thing is a put-up job. Some dirty, mean skunk has set out to ruin him for some reason unknown. There are mean folks," he went on, with his keen eyes fixed on Smallbones, "here in Barnriff.

They're mean enough to do this if they only hated Jim enough. I'd hate to cast reflections, but I believe from the bottom of my heart that Smallbones, if he hated enough, would do such a trick. I----"

"Are you accusin' me, you durned hulk?" shrieked the hardware dealer fiercely.

"I wasn't," remarked Peter, calmly. "But if you like, I will. I'm not a heap particular. And there'd be just about as much sense in doing so as there is in your accusations against Jim."

"Hark at him, fellers," cried the furious Smallbones, pointing at the big man. "He's his friend--he'd sell his stinkin' soul for him.

He'd----"

"I'd sell my soul for no man," Peter replied, cutting him short. "But I'd like to keep it as decently clean as such folks as you will let me. Now listen to me. You've no right to condemn this man in the way you're trying to. I don't know what your ultimate intentions are about him. I dare say some of you would like to hang him, but there's too many sane men who'd stop such as Smallbones at tricks like that. But you've no right to banish him out of the district, or even censure him. He's done nothing----"

"What about the Henderson woman?" cried Smallbones.

"Yes, yes," cried several voices, standing near their little leader.

Peter's eyes lit.

"Don't you dare to mention her name in here, Smallbones," he cried, with a sudden fierceness, "or, small as you are, I'll smash you to a pulp, and kick you from here to your store. In your wretched gossip, and in your scandal-loving hearts you must say and think what you please, but don't do it here, for I won't stand for it."

A murmur applauded him from Doc Crombie's direction, and even Smallbones was silenced for the moment. Peter went on.

"See here, I'm known to everybody. I'm known in most places where the gra.s.s of the prairie grows, and my name's mostly good. Well, I want to say right here, on my oath, Jim Thorpe's no cattle-thief, and, as G.o.d is my judge, I know that to be true. Jim Thorpe hasn't an evil thought in his----"

"Hold on," cried Doc Crombie, excitedly, as the swing doors were pushed suddenly open. "Here's some one who'll mebbe have a word to say fer himself. You're jest in time to say a word or two, Jim Thorpe," he smiled, as the man's pale face appeared in their midst.

"Here he is," cried Smallbones, his wicked eyes sparkling. "Here he is, fellers. Here is the man I accuse right here of bein' a low-down cattle-thief. That's your charge, Jim Thorpe. An' don't ferget we hang cattle----"

"Shut your rotten face, you worm!" cried Jim, contemptuously. He was standing in the centre of the room. Everybody had made way for him, and now he confronted a circle of accusing faces. He glanced swiftly round till his dark eyes rested on the hawk-like visage of the doctor.

"Say, Will Henderson's dead," he said, in a quiet, solemn voice. "He's been murdered. He's lying up there on the south side of the eastern bluff. Guess you'd best send up and--see to him."

His words produced a sudden and deathly silence. Every eye was upon his pale face in excited, incredulous wonderment. Will Henderson dead?

Their questioning eyes asked plainly for more information, while their tongues were silent with something like awe. Smallbones reached his gla.s.s from the counter and drank its contents at a gulp, but his eyes never left Jim's face. His astonishment didn't interfere with the rapid working of his mean brain. To him Jim looked a sick man. There was something defiant in the dark eyes. The man, to his swift imagination, was unduly perturbed. He glanced down at his clothes, and his eyes fixed themselves greedily upon the fingers of the hand nearest to him. A flash of triumph shot into his eyes as he heard Doc Crombie's voice suddenly break the silence.

"How'd it happen? Who did it?" he asked sharply.

Jim's answer came promptly.

"He's up there stabbed to death. Stabbed through the heart. As to who did it, that's to be found out." He shrugged. His eyes were on the doctor without shrinking.

But he turned swiftly as Smallbones' harsh tones drew every one's attention.

"Say, hold up your left hand, Jim Thorpe," he cried gleefully. "Hold it right up an' tell us what that red is on it. Say, I don't guess we'll need to puzzle a heap over how Will Henderson come by his death."

Jim raised his hand. There was nothing else to be done. For a second he gazed at it ruefully. But it was only the sight of the murdered man's blood on it that disturbed him, and not any thought of the consequences of its discovery.

"It's Will Henderson's blood," he said frankly. "It was necessary for me to touch him."

The frankness of his admission was not without its effect upon those who did not belong to Smallbones' extremist party, but to them it pa.s.sed as a mere subterfuge. They promptly gave voice to an ominous murmur which momentarily threatened to break out into violence. But Smallbones saw fresh possibilities. He suddenly changed his frenzied tactics, and entirely moderated his tone.

"You've come straight in?" he inquired.

"Yep." Jim's face wore something approaching a smile. He knew exactly what to expect before the night was out, and Smallbones' questions had no terrors for him. He had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose, except that which he had already made up his mind to lose--if necessary.

"What wer' you doin' out by that bluff?" Smallbones demanded.

"That's my business."

The little man snarled furiously. All eyes were set curiously upon Jim's face, but there were several smiles at the manner of the snub.

Peter Blunt standing beside Angel Gay was hopelessly wondering at the sudden turn of events.

But now Doc Crombie once more took the lead.

"We'll send up six boys and bring him in. I'll go myself." He turned and gave his orders. Then his luminous eyes settled themselves steadily upon Jim's face. "We want the rights o' this, sure. Do you know anything more?"

But Jim was tired of the questioning. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I've told all I've got to tell you. For Heaven's sake, go and fetch in the man's body. It'll maybe tell you more than it told me."

He turned to the bar and called for a drink, which he devoured thirstily.

But Doc Crombie was not to be dealt with in so cavalier a fashion.

"You'll come along up an' show us just wher' Henderson is," he said sharply. "It'll make it easier findin'." He stepped up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you get me? Ther's been murder done, an'----"

"I'll stay right here," said Jim, flashing round on him. "I've seen all I want to see up there. You'll have no difficulty locating him.

He's on the south side."

"You'll come----" Doc began.

But Smallbones, still smarting under his snub, could no longer keep silent.

"Take him prisoner," he demanded. "Get him now. Are you goin' to let him get away? Once he's on his horse he'll---- Say, he's got blood on his hands, and he's the on'y man with reason to wish Will Henderson dead. Gee, get his guns away an' strap him fast."

But the doctor ignored the interruption.

"You're coming out there, Jim Thorpe," he said deliberately, "or you'll hand over your guns, and----"

"Consider myself under your arrest, eh?" Jim promptly removed both of his guns from their holsters, and handed them, b.u.t.t first, to the doctor. "Guess I'll stay right here," he said easily. "And I'm glad to hand you those; it'll save me using them on Smallbones."

The furious hardware dealer now bristled up, and his mean face was thrust up so that he stared into Jim's with all the cruelty of his hatred laid bare in his eyes.

"Yes, you ken stay right here an' we'll look after you, me an' a few o' the boys. You're a prisoner, Jim Thorpe, and if you attempt to escape, we'll blow you to bits. We'll look after you, sure. You shan't escape, don't you mistake. It 'ud do me good to hand you a little lead pizenin'."

"I've no doubt," was all the answer Jim vouchsafed.

But before Smallbones could retort, Peter Blunt, followed by Jake Wilkes and Angel Gay, approached.