He let slip a startled oath. “That’s right. I wouldn’t.” The cow-puncher laughed hardily. He could afford to make this admission. Nobody had ever questioned his courage. “All right, ma’am. Objection sustained, as the judge said when Haight kicked on any answer to one of his fool questions. I’ll take back that ‘my dear.’” “And will you tell me what I want to know?” “That’s another proposition. You got to give me better reasons than you have yet why I should. Do you reckon I’m going to put my cards down on the table while you pinch yours up close? What’s the game? What are you aiming to do with what I tell you?” “Nothing. I just want to know.” “What for?” A little wave of pink beat into her cheeks. “I don’t want—if I can help it—to think of my husband as—as a——” “A murderer. Is that it?” he flung at her brutally. She nodded her head twice. The word hit her, in his savage voice, like a blow in the face. “Then why don’t you ask Mac? Are you afraid he’d lie to you?” “I know he wouldn’t,” she answered with spirit. “Well, then?” He watched her with hard eyes, still doubtful of her. “I’m his wife. Isn’t it natural I should want to know the truth?” “What are you trying to put over on me? Why don’t you go to Mac and ask him?” She threw herself on his mercy. “We—we’ve quarrelled. I can’t go to him. There’s nobody else to tell me but you.” There were dark shadows under the big eyes in the colourless face. She had suffered, he guessed, during these last weeks as she never had before. Life had taken toll of her pride and her gaiety. She looked frail and spent. Something in the dreariness of her stricken youth touched him. He spoke more gently: “According to Silcott’s story it lies between me and Mac. If he didn’t fire those shots, I did. Do you reckon I’m going to tell you that he didn’t fire them? Why should I?” Her eyes fell full in his. “Because I’m entitled to know the truth. I’m in trouble and you can help me. You’re no Larry Silcott. You’re a man. You stood firm at the risk of your life. Even if it is at your own expense, you’ll tell me. Rowan would do as much for your wife if you had one.” Ruth had said the right word at last, had in two sentences touched both his pride and his gratitude. “I reckon that beats me, ma’am,” he said. “I owe Mac a lot, and I’ll pay an installment of it right now. Yore husband never fired his gun from start to finish of the Bald Knob raid.” The light in her eyes thanked him more than words could have done.