ied to her. She had
told him everything which she knew or suspected, saying somewhere in her
account, "I know now that my first judgment of you, before I was
deceived into thinking Ben Broderick you, was right. I know that you are
a man and a gentleman. I know that you are 'square.' So now, if you
think that you owe me anything for what I am doing for you, I want you
to remember that Henry Pollard is my uncle, my dead mother's brother,
and to make things no harder for him than he has made them for
himself."

With no other reference to her relation to the man, with no further hint
of a plea for herself, she went on to tell what she knew of Pollard and
Broderick, of their meetings with Dalton whom, she thought, they had
completely deceived, of the talk she had overheard that night at the
schoolhouse. She said nothing of her own precarious position at
Pollard's house. When he finished reading Buck Thornton's eyes were very
bright.

"A real woman," he muttered. "A real man's sort of girl! I doped her up
right at the first jump, and then I went and insulted her by thinking
that she was like 'Rattlesnake' Pollard! Lord, Lordy! What a
difference!" And then, very gently, his eyes clouding a little, he
muttered over and over, under his breath: "Poor little kid!"

But ever his thoughts came back to the tangle into which day by day he
himself had been moving deeper and deeper. He saw how simple the whole
matter had been, how seemingly sure of success. Broderick was close
enough to him in size and form to make the scheme eminently practicable.
It was easy for Broderick to dress himself as Thornton dressed, boots,
chaps old and worn, big black hat and grey neck handkerchief. It was
simple enough for Broderick, here in this land of cattle and horses, to
find a horse that would be a fair match for any horse which Thornton
rode. He would allow himself to be seen only at a distance, as upon the
day Winifred Waverly had seen him, or indistinctly at night, and when
the time came and the arrest was made there would rise up many men to
swear to Buck Thornton.... Broderick himself had already said that he
had been robbed of a can of gold dust. He would be ready to swear that
Thornton had robbed him. Pollard would add his word....

One by one he remembered episodes which until now had meant nothing.
Cattle had been stolen from the ranges all about him; no single cow was
missing from the Poison Hole. He had thought that this had been becau