“While I’m at it I’ll tell you more,” he went on. “Mac laid the law down straight that we weren’t gunning for Tait. He didn’t want to take me along because he knew I was sore at the fellow, but when I insisted on going the others overruled him. After the killing Mac never once said ‘I told you so’ to the others for letting me go along. What’s more, when they asked questions about who killed Gilroy and who started the shooting, he gave them no satisfaction. He let the boys guess who did it. If Mac had said the word, the rest would have rounded on me. I would have been hanged, and they would have got short sentences. Your husband is a prince, ma’am.” “Thank you.” “I got him and the other boys into all this trouble. He hasn’t flung it up to me once. What do you know about that?” “I’m so glad I came to see you. It’s going to make a great difference to me.” There was a tremor in her voice that told of suppressed tears. Ackerman came to the door: “About through?” The prisoner lifted his upper lip in a sneer. “Better throw your gat on me, Steve. I might make trouble, you know.” CHAPTER XXIII RUTH WHISPERS A SECRET ACKERMAN followed Rowan into the sheriff’s office. Matson looked up from the desk where he was working. “All right, Steve. You needn’t wait.” When he had signed his name to the letter he was writing, Matson turned to his prisoner. “We’re going to start on the eleven-thirty, Mac. Your wife is down at the house with Mrs. Matson. She wants to say good-bye there instead of at the depot. I’ve got considerable business to clean up before train time, so I’ll stay on the job. Be back here in an hour.” “You mean that I’m to go there alone?” “Why not? I’ll ask you to go through the alleys if you don’t mind. I don’t want the other boys to feel that I’m playing favourites.” “I’ll not forget this, Aleck.” “Sho! You never threw a man down in your life, Mac. I don’t reckon you’re going to begin now. Hit the dust. I’m busy.” Rowan crossed the square to a street darkened by shade trees, and followed it to the alley. Down this he passed between board fences. He took his hat off and lifted his face to the star-strewn sky. It would be many years before he walked again a free man beneath the Milky Way. Society was putting him behind bars because he had broken its laws. He did not dispute the justice of its decision. His punishment was fair enough. When he and his friends decided to be a law to themselves, to right one wrong by doing another, they had laid themselves open to blame. A man must be held responsible for his actions, even when the result is different from what he anticipates.