Sandersen himself was a great problem.  If Bill had spoken up in good faith to save Sinclair from the posse that morning, the Riley felt that he was disarmed.  But a profound suspicion remained with him that Sandersen guessed his mission, and was purposely trying to brush away the wrath of the avenger.  It would take time to discover the truth, but to secure that time it was necessary to settle the blame for the killing.  Cold Feet was a futile, weak-handed little coward.  In the stern scheme of Sinclair’s life, the death of such a man was almost less than nothing.

“Wasting a lot of time on a rat!”

The voice of Larsen fell agreeably upon the ear of his honor.  Behind that voice came a faraway murmur, the scream of a hawk.  He bent his head back and looked up through the limbs of the cottonwood into the pale blue-white haze of the morning sky.

A speck drifted across it, the hawk sailing in search of prey.  Under the noble arch of heaven floated that fierce, malignant creature!

Riley Sinclair lowered his head with a sigh.  Was not he himself playing the part of the hawk?  He looked straight into the eyes of the prisoner, and Jig met the gaze without flinching.  He merely smiled in an apologetic manner, and he made a little gesture with his right hand, as if to admit that he was helpless, and that he cast himself upon the good will of Riley Sinclair.  Riley jerked his head to one side and scowled.  He hated that appeal.  He wanted this hanging to be the work of seven men, not of one.

Montana returned, bringing with him a yellow-covered, red-backed book.  “They wasn’t a sign of a Bible in the house,” he stated, “but I found this here history of the United States, with the Declaration of Independence pasted into the back of it.  I figured that ought to do about as well as a Bible.”

“You got a good head, Montana,” said his honor.  “Open up to that there Declaration.  Here, Larsen, put your hand on this and swear you’re telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  They ain’t going to be any bum testimony taken in this court.  We ain’t going to railroad this lynching through.”

He caught a glistening light of gratitude in the eyes of the schoolteacher.  Riley’s own breast swelled with a sense of virtue.  He had never before taken the life of a helpless man; and now that it was necessary, he would do it almost legally.

Larsen willingly took the oath.  “I’m going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, damn me if I don’t!  I was over to Shorty Lander’s store the other day—­”

“What day?”

“Hmm!  Last Tuesday, I reckon.”

“Go on, Larsen, but gimme nothin’ but the facts.”

“I seen Jig come into the store.  ‘I want to look at a revolver,’” he said.

“‘The deuce you do!  What might you want to do with a revolver, Jig?’ says Shorty.  ‘You mean you want a toy gun?’