en these men rode up. The Indian
was cold; he certainly had been dead for hours. Besides," he demanded,
"what possible motive could I have?"

"Them as likes lettin' blood don't need a motive." The sneering voice was
Smith's.

"But you, sir, met us on the hill. You know the direction from which we
came."

"It's easy enough to circle."

"But why should I go back?" cried McArthur.

"They say there's that that draws folks back for another look."

Smith's insinuations, the stand he took, had its effect upon the Indians,
who, hot for revenge, needed only this to confirm their suspicions. One of
the Indians on horseback began to uncoil his rawhide saddle-rope. All save
McArthur understood the significance of the action. They meant to tie him
hand and foot and take him to the Agency, with blows and insults plentiful
en route.

They edged closer to him, every savage instinct uppermost, their faces
dark and menacing. McArthur, his eyes sweeping the circle, felt that he
had not one friend, not one, in the motley, threatening crowd fast closing
in upon him; for Tubbs, hearing himself indirectly included in the
accusation, had discreetly, and with perceptible haste, withdrawn.

The Indian swung from his saddle, rope in hand, and advanced upon McArthur
with unmistakable purpose; but he did not reach the little scientist, for
Susie darted from the circle, her flashing gray eyes looking more
curiously at variance than ever with her tawny skin.

"No, no, Running Rabbit!" She pushed him gently backward with her
finger-tips upon his chest.

There was a murmur of protest from the crowd, and it seemed to sting her
like a spur. Susie was not accustomed to disapproval. She turned to where
the murmurs came loudest--from the white grub-liners, who were eager for
excitement.

"Who are you," she cried, "that you should be so quick to accuse this
stranger? You, Arkansaw Red, that skipped from Kansas for killin' a
nigger! You, Jim Padden, that shot a sheep-herder in cold blood! You,
Banjo Johnson, that's hidin' out this minute! Don't you all be so darned
anxious to hang another man, when there's a rope waitin' somewhere for
your own necks!

"And lemme tell you"--she took a step toward them. "The man that lifts a
finger to take this bug-hunter to the Agency can take his blankets along
at the same time, for there'll never be a bunk or a seat at the table for
him on this ranch as long as he lives. Where's your proof against this
bug-hu