“I’m not a fool, Mac. I know you didn’t set out to kill. If you ask me who started the gun play I can come pretty near giving his name. It’s a cinch you didn’t. One of your party has been talking, and the rumour is that you saved the herders. Anyhow, I don’t want to see you hang if I can help it.” “Good of you,” derided the prisoner. “But that’s what is going to happen if you don’t take my offer. You are going to trial first—and for the killing of Gilroy. You’ll be convicted. The Governor daren’t commute the sentence. Last call, Mac. Will you come through?” “No, Aleck. I don’t admit I have anything to tell, but if I had I expect I’d keep my mouth shut.” “Then you’ll hang.” “Maybe I will; maybe I won’t,” answered Rowan coolly. “I can throw a cat through some of your evidence.” “Don’t you think it. I’ve got you tied up in a net you can’t break. One of the herders will testify he heard you called ‘Mac’ just after the shooting.” This was news to McCoy, but he did not bat an eye. “Heard someone called Mac, you mean, Sheriff. There are quite a few Macs in Shoshone County.” “Perhaps you don’t know that we have a witness who saw Falkner take a rifle out of the Triangle Dot bunk house a few hours before the raid.” “I heard Hal was anxious to shoot a deer for meat for the camp.” “The gun was a .35 Winchester.” “He used judgment. I always liked a .35 for deer,” commented the prisoner. “A .35 will kill a man, too,” said Matson significantly. “The shells I picked up in front of the camp at Bald Knob would fit the gun taken from the rack at the Triangle Dot.” “If I had an imagination like you, Aleck, I’d go in for writing these moving pictures. You’re plumb wasting it here.” Matson rose. “No use spilling words. Are you going to be reasonable or not?” The men looked at each other with direct, level gaze. “I aim always to try to be,” replied McCoy. “Well, will you come through with what I want, or will you hang?” “Since you put it that way, Sheriff, I reckon I’ll hang.” “You damn fool!” exploded the sheriff. But there was no censure in his voice. The cattleman had done what he would have done under the same test—come clean as a whistle from the temptation to betray his accomplices. “I knew you wouldn’t do it,” continued Matson. “But I’ve given you your chance. Don’t blame me.” McCoy nodded. It was the business of a sheriff to run down crime. The cattleman was too good a sportsman to hold a grudge on that account, even if the officer fastened a rope around his neck. Though Rowan had been under no temptation to turn State’s evidence, the sheriff left him worried at what he had predicted as to a confession. He might of course be telling the truth. The sheriff had said that there is a weak link in every chain. If so, who was the weak one among the prisoners?