“Oh, you don’t, eh?” Law reached for the boy and shook him until he yelled.  “You will make a nice little prisoner, Juanito, and we shall find a way to make you speak.”

Gonzalez was inclined to resent such high-handed treatment of his underling, but respect for the Rangers was deep-rooted, and Juan’s behavior was inexplicable.

At last the horse-boy confessed.  He had seen both horse and rider, but knew neither.  Mr. Austin and the stranger had arrived together, and the latter had gone on.  That was the truth.

“Bueno!” Law released his prisoner, who slunk away rubbing his shoulder.  “Now, Benito, we will find Mr. Austin.”

A voice answered from the dusk:  “He won’t take much finding,” and Ed Austin himself emerged from the stable door.  “Well, what do you want?” he asked.

“You are Mr. Austin, I reckon?”

“I am.  What d’you mean by abusing my help?” The master of Las Palmas approached so near that his threatening scowl was visible.  “I don’t allow strangers to prowl around my premises.”

Amazed at this hostile greeting, Law explained in a word the reason for his presence.

“I don’t know anything about your man.  What d’you want him for, and who are you?”

Dave introduced himself.  “I want him for stealing Guzman calves.  I trailed him from where he and his partner cut into your south pasture.”

Benito stirred and muttered an oath, but Austin was unmoved.  “I reckon you must be a bad trailer,” he laughed.  “We’ve got no thieves here.  What makes you think Guzman lost any calves?”

Dave’s temper, never too well controlled at best, began to rise.  He could not imagine why a person of Ed Austin’s standing should behave in this extraordinary manner, unless perhaps he was drunk.

“Well, I saw the calves, and I left the fellow that was branding them with a wet saddle-blanket over his face.”

“Eh?  What’s that?” Austin started, and Gonzalez uttered a smothered exclamation.  “You killed him?  He’s dead?”

“Dead enough to skin.  I caught him with his irons in the fire and the calves necked up in your pasture.  Now I want his companero.”

“I—­hope you don’t think we know anything about him,” Ed protested.

“Where’s that man on the sorrel horse?”

Austin turned away with a shrug.

“You rode in with him,” Dave persisted.

Ed wheeled quickly.  “How do you know I did?”

“Your boy saw you.”

The ranchman’s voice was harsh as he said:  “Look here, my friend, you’re on the wrong track.  The fellow I was with had nothing to do with this affair.  Would you know your man?  Did you get a look at him?”

“No.  But I reckon Don Ricardo could tell his horse.”

“Humph!” Austin grunted, disagreeably.  “So just for that you come prowling around threatening my help, eh?  Trying to frame up a case, maybe?  Well, it don’t go.  I was out with one of Tad Lewis’s men.”