"Oho!" he said, "so you're the young bucks that have been raising all this deviltry. Well, we'll just make you an example for the rest of 'em to look at when they come over to steal our stock." He made the grewsome motions of tightening a loop about his neck and the Texans turned deathly pale. "I thought you were deputies," said one of them at length, but no one responded directly. With two prisoners on their hands they would be handicapped at every turn, and the question before them was whether to let Grimes hang them or allow them to go scot free. "Well, what you got to say for yourselves?" asked Meshackatee at length, after they had eaten a scanty breakfast. "Where'd you git that band of horses you had yesterday?" The younger of the boys was by now too scared to talk, but the older one spoke up boldly. "We were coming in from Holbrook," he said, "and some men that we met said they'd give us ten dollars to drive these broncs down into the Basin." "Come from Texas?" inquired Meshackatee. "Well, couldn't you see by them brands that half those horses was stolen? I know you could now, son; so don't make us hang you for a liar." "You're a liar yourself!" flashed back the boy indignantly. "Didn't you claim you was a deputy sheriff!" "Take the witness," shrugged Meshackatee, rolling his eyes at Winchester. "He's too danged smart for me." "Lookee here, kid," began Winchester with a placating smile, "you'd better come through with the truth. Who're you working for--Isham Scarborough?" "Don't know him," denied the boy. "We were jest rambling through the country when we met up with them fellers with the horses. Say, are you deputy sheriffs? Well then, you don't _dare_ to hang me! Don't I git a trial, or nothing?" "You're gitting a trial, right now," returned Winchester. "And if you git too gay we'll jest take off these tin stars and _show_ you whether or not we can hang you. You're a tough little devil, I can see that with one eye; but--oh, hell, let the little whelp go!" He laughed shortly and turned away, pretending to adjust his pistol, and McIvor nodded at Meshackatee. "We're not fighting boys," he said, but Grimes took the opposite view. "Now, gentlemen," he objected, rising up from where he sat, "I think you're wrong--dead wrong. These boys may be young but they knew what they were doing; and this stealing has got to stop, that's all! I'll jest take off this star, so they won't be no complications, and--you can turn them over to me." "No, don't you do it, Mister!" cried the boy in a panic, running to cling to Meshackatee's knees, "I--I'll never steal another horse again. And this other boy, he's only a kid--we ran away from home together." "Oh, I see," mumbled Meshackatee, and glanced questioningly at Grimes who stood with his lips grimly pursed. "Well?" he demanded, but Meshackatee shook his head. "Nope," he said, "they's too small, Mr. Grimes. And I ran away from home myself."