It's--important. You've been robbed last night, and--it's
about them. The gang, I mean."
His pony was still blowing. Bob had ridden hard. He had first ridden
into Orrville, and then followed the rancher out here. He was leaning
over in the saddle lounging upon the horn of it. His eyes were gazing
curiously, speculatively at the figure of the man who ruled the local
cattle industry. He was calculating in his own way what might be the
effect of the news he had to impart. What estimate this big man--and
Bob knew him to be a big man--would have of him when he had told his
news and claimed the--blood money? With each moment he shrank smaller
and smaller in his own estimation.
Dug regarded him steadily.
"You've got news of them?"
Bob nodded, and glanced meaningly in the direction of Lew Hank.
"I've seen 'em. But--it's more than that."
The rancher turned quickly upon his foreman.
"Say, just get along into the shack there, and see how the Doc's making
with young Syme. I need a talk with Whitstone.
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