"Look here, Limber, you're an old friend, but don't presume too far. I'm not as big a fool as you think I am. You mind your own business, damn you! What's my wife to you anyhow? You and Powell have butted in a good bit in my family affairs!" Limber's face was white; his right hand flashed to his pistol, then fell away. His eyes stared in dumb misery toward the house. The other men saw Katherine Glendon standing in the doorway. Every head was bared instantly. She understood that something was wrong, and an expression of dread darkened her eyes as she moved to her husband's side. "What is it, Jim?" she asked. Glendon kicked the gravel but no one answered. Then as her eyes moved from face to face, she recognized Limber. "What is wrong, Limber?" The cowpuncher kept his eyes on the horn of his saddle. He would have shot Glendon for the insult passed, but he could not force himself to tell Glendon's wife their mission. Graham cursed inwardly. Glendon's lips wore an ugly smile, and he refused to speak. "The train was robbed again last night, Mrs. Glendon," explained Graham, at last. "Three-fingered Jack was killed. He made a statement accusing Glendon and Alpaugh. We're all friends of Glendon's and don't believe the story was true; but we have to take him back with us. We can't help ourselves." Katherine held tightly to the picket fence while the man was speaking. "You are making a terrible mistake," she cried in relief. "He has not been away from home for over a month." "He told us that," was the answer, "and we're glad of it, too." She turned to her husband, her hand rested on his arm. "Jim, tell me you are innocent, and I will believe in you in spite of everything," she implored. He glanced suspiciously at the men. "You forget, Katherine, these men will be witnesses to every word I speak." "We will ride off a bit, Glendon, but we've got to watch you," replied Graham. Following the constable, the rest rode out of earshot, leaving husband and wife practically alone. "Are you mixed up in it, Jim?" "No;" he replied boldly, trying to look her in the eyes. As his glance wavered, she knew that he was lying, and he knew that she read his guilt. The knowledge roused his resentment. "Jim, be honest with me," she begged earnestly. "Trust me. No matter what has happened--what you may have done, you are my husband and I will stand by you. Tell me the truth." "There is nothing to go into hysterics over," he retorted. "You know as much about the affair as I do. You know I have not been away from home for a month. If you want to help me, as you pretend you do, that statement from you will counteract anything Jack may have said. I don't know whether your testimony would even be admitted as evidence." "I could say that truthfully," she answered; "and, oh, Jim! I am so thankful." "I know you have already accused, tried and sentenced me as guilty," he shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the men. "I'll be ready as soon as I can saddle up."