, he
could see that she was still nervous and apprehensive.

"Should you rather go inside?" she murmured.

Buck flashed a glance at the two Mannings, still within hearing. "If you
don't mind," he answered briefly.

In the living-room she turned and faced him, her back against the table,
on which she rested the tips of her outspread fingers. She was so
evidently nerving herself for an interview she dreaded that Buck almost
regretted having forced it.

"I won't keep you a minute," he began hurriedly. "Tex tells me you have no
more use for me here."

"I'm--sorry," fell almost mechanically from her set lips.

"But he didn't tell me why."

Her eyes, which from the first had scarcely left his face, widened, and a
puzzled look came into them.

"But you must know," she returned a trifle stiffly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't," he assured her.

"Oh--duties!" She spoke with a touch of soft impatience. "It's what you've
done, not what you haven't done that--. But surely this is a waste of
time? It's not particularly--pleasant; and I don't see what will be gained
by going into all the--the details."

Something in her tone stung him. "Still, it doesn't seem quite fair to
condemn even a common cow-puncher unheard," he retorted with a touch of
sarcasm.

She stiffened, and a faint flush crept into her face. Then her chin went
up determinedly.

"You rode to Paloma yesterday morning." It was more of a statement than a
question.

"Yes."

"In the gully this side of the Rocking-R trail you met a Mexican on a
sorrel horse?"

Again Buck acquiesced, but inwardly he wondered. So far as he knew there
had been no witness to that meeting.

"He handed you a letter?"

Buck nodded, a sudden feeling of puzzled wariness surging over him. For an
instant the girl hesitated. Then she went on in a soft rush of
indignation:

"And so last night those Mexican thieves, warned that the middle pasture
would be unguarded, broke in there and carried off nearly two hundred head
of cattle!"

As he caught her meaning, which he did almost instantly, Buck flushed
crimson and his eyes flashed. For a moment or so he was too furious to
speak; and though most of his rage was directed against the man who, with
such brazen effrontery, had sought to shift the blame of his own criminal
plotting, he could not help feeling resentment that the girl should so
readily believe the worst against him. A vehement denial trembled on his
lips, but in time he remem