orch. Kate was bending over the bed rearranging the pillows, but she
looked up quickly when the two men entered. Her eyes were still gentle
with the love that had been shining down from them upon her father.

Cullison spoke. "Sit down, Dick." And to his prisoner: "You too."

Flandrau saw close at hand for the first time the man who had been
Arizona's most famous fighting sheriff. Luck Cullison was well-built and
of medium height, of a dark complexion, clean shaven, wiry and muscular.
Already past fifty, he looked not a day more than forty. One glance was
enough to tell Curly the kind of man this was. The power of him found
expression in the gray steel-chilled eyes that bored into the young
outlaw. A child could have told he was not one to trifle with.

"You have begun early, young fellow," he said quietly.

"Begun what?" Curly asked, having nothing better to say.

"You know what. But never mind that. I don't ask you to convict yourself.
I sent for you to tell you I don't blame you for this." He touched the
wound in his side.

"Different with your boys, sir."

"So the boys are a little excited, are they?"

"They were last night anyhow," Curly answered, with a glimmer of a smile.

Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at his daughter.

"I'll listen to what you've been hiding from me," he told them.

"Oh, the boys had notions. Miss Kate argued with them and they saw things
different," the Bar Double M rider explained.

But Cullison would not let it go at that. He made them tell him the whole
story. When Curly and Maloney had finished he buried his daughter's little
hand in his big brown fist. His eyes were dancing with pride, but he gave
her not a word of spoken praise.

Kate, somewhat embarrassed, changed the subject briskly. "Now you're
talking too much, Dad. Doctor Brown said you might see him for just a few
minutes. But you're not to tire yourself, so I'll do the talking for
you."

He took his orders with the smiling submission of the man who knows his
mistress.

Kate spoke to Curly. "Father wants me to tell you that we don't blame you
for shooting at him. We understand just how it was. Your friend got
excited and shot as soon as he saw he was surrounded. We are both very
sorry he was killed. Father could not stop the boys in time. Perhaps you
remember that he tried to get you to surrender."

The rustler nodded. "Yes, I heard him holler to me to put my gun down, but
the others blazed away at me.