Having succeeded, she called to Dave:
"There is a nice breeze up here."
The Ranger's face set; rising slowly, he climbed the bank after
her. When they stood face to face in the shade of a gnarly oak-
tree, Alaire asked him point-blank:
"Where is Panfilo Sanchez?"
Dave met her eyes squarely; his own were cold and hard. "He's
where he dropped at my second shot," said he.
He could hear his companion's sharp inhalation. He did not flinch
at the look she turned upon him.
"Then--you killed him?"
"Yes'm!"
"God! He was practically unarmed! What do you call--such an act?"
Dave's lips slowly whitened, his face became stony. He closed his
eyes, then opened them upon hers. "He had it coming. He stole my
horse. He took a chance."
Mrs. Austin turned away. For a time they were silent and Dave felt
himself pitilessly condemned.
"Why didn't you tell me at the time?" she asked. "Why didn't you
report it?"
"I'll report it when you give me permission."
"I--? What--?" She wheeled to face him.
"Think a moment. I can't tell half the truth. And if I tell
everything it will lead to--gossip."
"Ah! I think I understand. Mr. Law, you can be insulting--"
For the first time the man lost muscular control of his features;
they twitched, and under their tan his cheeks became a sickly
yellow.
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