“If it’s true, what’s that to me?” he bluffed, in hoarse accents.

“Neuman, I didn’t come to answer questions,” said the cowboy, curtly.  “My boss jest sent me fer you, an’ if you bucked on comin’, then I was to say it was your only chance to avoid publicity an’ bein’ run out of the country.”

Neuman was livid of face now and shaking all over his huge frame.

“Anderson threatens me!” he shouted.  “Anderson suspicions me!... Gott in Himmel!...  Me he always cheated!  An’ now he insults—­”

“Say, it ain’t healthy to talk like thet about my boss,” interrupted Jake, forcibly.  “An’ we’re wastin’ time.  If you don’t go with me we’ll be comin’ back—­the whole outfit of us!...  Anderson means you’re to face his man!”

“What man?”

“Dorn.  Young Dorn, son of old Chris Dorn of the Bend....  Dorn has some things to tell you thet you won’t want made public....  Anderson’s givin’ you a square deal.  If it wasn’t fer thet I’d sling my gun on you!...  Do you git my hunch?”

The name of Dorn made a slack figure of the aggressive Neuman.

“All right—­I go,” he said, gruffly, and without a word to his men he started off.

Jake followed him.  Neuman made a short cut to the gate, thus avoiding a meeting with any of his family.  At the road, however, some men observed him and called in surprise, but he waved them back.

“Bill, you an’ Andy collect yourselves an’ give Mr. Neuman a seat,” said Jake, as he opened the door to allow the farmer to enter.

The two cowboys gave Neuman the whole of the back seat, and they occupied the smaller side seats.  Jake took his place beside the driver.

“Burn her up!” was his order.

The speed of the car made conversation impossible until the limits of a town necessitated slowing down.  Then the cowboys talked.  For all the attention they paid to Neuman, he might as well not have been present.  Before long the driver turned into a road that followed a railroad track for several miles and then crossed it to enter a good-sized town.  The streets were crowded with people and the car had to be driven slowly.  At this juncture Jake suggested.

“Let’s go down by the bridge.”

“Sure,” agreed his allies.

Then the driver turned down a still more peopled street that sloped a little and evidently overlooked the railroad tracks.  Presently they came in sight of a railroad bridge, around which there appeared to be an excited yet awestruck throng.  All faces were turned up toward the swaying form of a man hanging by a rope tied to the high span of the bridge.

“Wal, Glidden’s hangin’ there yet,” remarked Jake, cheerfully.

With a violent start Neuman looked out to see the ghastly placarded figure, and then he sank slowly back in his seat.  The cowboys apparently took no notice of him.  They seemed to have forgotten his presence.

“Funny they’d cut all the other I.W.W.’s down an’ leave Glidden hangin’ there,” observed Bill.