Rogers and Yerby were married. It was likely that Haight and Matson might have been at their wives to harry them into a confession. Women did not always have the same point of view about honour when their feelings were involved. They might have insisted on their husbands saving themselves if they could. But, somehow, neither Rogers nor Yerby seemed the type of man to save himself at the expense of others. Rogers he had known a long time and had never found him anything but reliable. Yerby had been in the neighbourhood six or seven years. McCoy sized up the Texan as a simple man, frank and direct in his thinking. On all the evidence at hand he would live up to the code by which he guided his life. The other three were single men. There would be less excuse for one of them if he betrayed his friends. Larry Silcott! No, certainly not Larry. Rowan had tied the young fellow to him by a hundred favours. Moreover, Larry lived in the sunshine of popular applause. He could not go into the witness box to testify against his companions without for ever forfeiting the good opinion of all decent people. It could not be Larry. Jack Cole! He felt confident it was not Jack. The young fellow was of the stuff that carries through. This left Falkner. Rowan considered Falkner with no assurance of his loyalty. The man was wild, reckless, and undisciplined. It was hard to predict what he would do under any set of circumstances. He had the reputation of being game, but he was given to suspicions and resentments. It was possible that if they plied him in just the right way he might burst out in invectives against his companions. Suppose, for instance, Haight persuaded him that the others were planning to deliver him as the sacrifice. On the other hand, Falkner was in a different class from the others. He had fired the first shot. He had killed Gilroy and knew that McCoy knew it. If he went on the stand against the others his accomplices would be free to fling the onus of the murders upon him. No, Falkner would not dare weaken. Rowan’s thoughts drifted from the problem Matson had left with him and reverted to his wife. He was more unhappy about his relationship with her than about the danger to his life. She had asked for his confidence and he had refused it. What else could he do? But his sick heart told him that she had opened a door to the chance of a better understanding between them and he had been forced to shut it again. Life was full of little ironies that embittered and made vain the best intentions. CHAPTER XIX SAM YERBY SINGS LATER in the day the sheriff tried out another of his prisoners. He had told McCoy the truth. One of the six was weakening. Matson had his own favourites and wanted to give them a chance before the State’s attorney was pledged. By sunset a confession would be in the hands of Haight, and it would be too late to save his friends.