low will have something to say."

Dave looked him over idly, from head to heel, then murmured: "You would
do well to go slow, compadre. Panfilo made his own quarrels."

"We were like brothers, and I do not know of any quarrels. But I shall
find out. It begins to look bad for somebody. After he left that charco
there is--nothing. Where did he go? Whom did he encounter? Rosa will
ask me those questions. I am not given to boasting, senor, but I am a
devilish bad man in my way."

XV

THE TRUTH ABOUT PANFILO

Nothing more was said during the luncheon, but when Alaire had finished
eating and her two employees had begun their meal, she climbed the bank
of the arroyo ostensibly to find a cool spot. 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.

"You've no right to say that," he told her, harshly. "You've plumb
overstepped yourself, ma'am, and--I reckon you've formed quite a wrong
opinion of me and of the facts. Let me tell you something about that
killing and about myself, so you'll have it all straight before you
bring in your verdict. You say Panfilo was unarmed, and you call
it--murder. He had his six-shooter and he used it; he had the darkness
and the swiftest