The girl looked at Dixon in silent contempt.  She was very angry, so that for the moment her embarrassment was swamped.  But she did not choose to dignify his spleen by replying to it.

There was no iron in Dixon’s make-up.  When he saw that this attack had reacted against him, he tried whining.

“Honest, you’re wrong about this calf, Mr. Keller.  I don’t say, mind you, it ain’t a rustled calf.  It may be; but I don’t know it if it is.  Maybe the rustlers were scared off just before I happened on it.”

“We’ll see how a jury looks at that.  You’re going to get the chance to tell that story to one, I expect,” Larrabie remarked dryly.

“Pass it up this time, and I’ll get out of the country,” the youth promised.

“Take care!  Whatever you say will be used against you.”

“Suppose I did rustle one of Buck Weaver’s calves—­mind, I don’t say I did—­but say I did?  Didn’t he bust my father up in business?  Ain’t he aiming to do the same by your folks, Phyl?” He was almost ready to cry.

The girl turned her head aside, and spoke in a low voice to Keller.  She was greatly angered and disgusted at Tom; but she had been his friend, and on this occasion there had been some justification for him in the wrong the cattleman had done his family.

“Do you have to report him and have him prosecuted?”

“I’m paid to stop the rustling that has been going on,” answered Keller, in the same undertone.

“He won’t do it again.  He has had his scare.  It will last him a lifetime.”  Even while she promised it for him, it was not without contempt for the poor-spirited craven who could be so easily driven from his evil ways.  If a man must do wrong, let it be boldly—­as Buck Weaver did it.

“Yes, but his pals haven’t had theirs.”

“But you don’t know them.”

“I can guess one man in it with him.  We’ve got to root the thing out.”

“Why not serve warning on him by Tom?  Then they would both clear out.”

Dixon divined that she was pleading for him, and edged in another word for himself.  “Whatever wrong I’ve done I’ve been driven to.  There’s been an older man to lead me into it, too.”

“You mean Red Hughes?” Keller said sharply.

Tom hesitated.  He had not got to the point of betraying his accomplice.  “I ain’t saying who I mean.  Nor, for that matter, I ain’t admitting I’ve done any particular wrong—­no more than other young fellows.”

Keller brought him sharply to time.  “You’ve used your last wet blanket.  I’ve got the evidence that will put you behind the bars.  Miss Phyllis wants me to let you off.  I can’t do it unless you make a clean breast of it.  You’ll either come through with what I want to know, and do as I say, or you’ll have to stand the gaff.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How many pals had you in this rustling?”

“You said you would use against me anything I said.”