And
if you are thirsty and hungry come into my house."
"Thanks, ma'am. I can't accept for myself--but for my tired
horse--"
Trampling of hoofs interrupted the rider. More restless movements
on the part of Tull's men broke up the little circle, exposing
the prisoner Venters.
"Mebbe I've kind of hindered somethin'--for a few moments,
perhaps?" inquired the rider.
"Yes," replied Jane Withersteen, with a throb in her voice.
She felt the drawing power of his eyes; and then she saw him look
at the bound Venters, and at the men who held him, and their
leader.
"In this here country all the rustlers an' thieves an'
cut-throats an' gun-throwers an' all-round no-good men jest
happen to be Gentiles. Ma'am, which of the no-good class does
that young feller belong to?"
"He belongs to none of them. He's an honest boy."
"You KNOW that, ma'am?"
"Yes--yes."
"Then what has he done to get tied up that way?"
His clear and distinct question, meant for Tull as well as for
Jane Withersteen, stilled the restlessness and brought a
momentary silence.
"Ask him," replied Jane, her voice rising high.
The rider stepped away from her, moving out with the same slow,
measured stride in which he had approached, and the fact that his
action placed her wholly to one side, and him no nearer to Tull
and his men, had a penetrating significance.
"Young feller, speak up," he said to Venters.
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