A group of riders cantered up the lane, dismounted, and
threw their bridles. They were seven in number, and Tull, the
leader, a tall, dark man, was an elder of Jane's church.
"Did you get my message?" he asked, curtly.
"Yes," replied Jane.
"I sent word I'd give that rider Venters half an hour to come
down to the village. He didn't come."
"He knows nothing of it;" said Jane. "I didn't tell him. I've
been waiting here for you."
"Where is Venters?"
"I left him in the courtyard."
"Here, Jerry," called Tull, turning to his men, "take the gang
and fetch Venters out here if you have to rope him."
The dusty-booted and long-spurred riders clanked noisily into the
grove of cottonwoods and disappeared in the shade.
"Elder Tull, what do you mean by this?" demanded Jane. "If you
must arrest Venters you might have the courtesy to wait till he
leaves my home. And if you do arrest him it will be adding insult
to injury. It's absurd to accuse Venters of being mixed up in
that shooting fray in the village last night. He was with me at
the time. Besides, he let me take charge of his guns. You're only
using this as a pretext. What do you mean to do to
Venters?"
"I'll tell you presently," replied Tull. "But first tell me why
you defend this worthless rider?"
"Worthless!" exclaimed Jane, indignantly. "He's nothing of the
kind. He was the best rider I ever had.
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