Suspecting his dilemma, Sterry said: 

“You can readily arrange it by taking me in as prisoner and allowing Vesey to go.”

“That is all well enough, but it will put me in a hole that I don’t intend to be put in.  Capt.  Asbury is the boss of this business; you two can ride up to him and make your report; that will place the responsibility where it belongs.”

This seemed reasonable, but Sterry felt uneasy.  He knew the violent temper of Capt.  Asbury, and feared he would refuse to acknowledge the agreement as binding upon him.  On the other hand, Sterry was determined to stand by his pledge to the last.

“I can’t consent to that,” he said.

“You’ve got to,” replied Hendricks; “it is idle to suppose that any such bargain as you may choose to make can be binding on others who were not present when it was made, and therefore were not parties to it.”

“That is one way of putting it, but the promise is binding on me, and as true as I am a living man I will fight to the death against you and the whole party before this person shall suffer because of his faith in my word.”

“Very well, then, fight it is; he has got to surrender to Capt.  Asbury and await what he is willing to do with him.”

“Duke,” said Sterry, turning to the rustler, “it’s two of us against three, and you and I have been there before.”

But on the verge of the explosion the rustler came to the rescue.

“There’s no need of any row, Sterry; I’ll surrender and take my chances.”

And to settle the dispute he struck his horse into a gallop, and before the surprise was over rode up to the group, who were gazing wonderingly off in the gloom, whence came the sound of voices.

Sterry and the footmen were but a brief space behind them.  While the astonished captain and his companions were looking around for an explanation, Mont Sterry made it in as brief and pointed words as were at his command.

Capt.  Asbury fixed his gray eyes upon the handsome countenance of the young man during the few minutes he was speaking, and Sterry saw, despite the forceful terms in which he stated the agreement, that the leading stockman was angry.

“I’ve no objection,” he remarked, striving to control his voice, which was tremulous with anger, “if you choose to play the woman, but I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it.”

“Vesey surrendered under my promise that he should be protected; had he not believed that promise he would not have surrendered.”

“But would have been shot down where he sat in the saddle.  Had he been beyond reach and come in under such a pledge, the case would have been altogether different; but as it is—­”

The fateful words were interrupted by a rush and dash.  Attention had been diverted for the moment from the prisoner to the one who was pleading for him and to him who held his fate in his hands.  The observant Vesey saw the inevitable trend of events, and, taking advantage of the chance, was off like a thunderbolt.