“But how did you happen to be way off to the south?” Carver asked. Bart’s moroseness was dissipated by a grin, the scowl which had stamped his face vanishing before the advent of some happy recollection. “I had two pints in the saddle pockets for medicinal uses. After taking one of them it occurred to me what a nice thing it would be to surprise you by bringing down those yearlings of yours so I headed for Hinman’s west place. After taking the other I evidently dismounted thereabouts for a nap; and after napping I couldn’t locate my horse. I’d left the reins looped on the horn, likely, and he headed for home. While I was hunting round for him I heard folks riding toward me and angled to cut their trail and get help, like I told you. Instead I got shot. Then I rambled on afoot for a couple of miles and arrived at a house. Some one is making a late evening call and has left his horse tied outside, so I borrowed the old wreck and headed toward home. I was feeling faint-like and weak, so I tied him up to a plum bush and slept. I made another start about daylight and then got off for a rest. It was then I see a dozen or so riders surging down on me. With half the county out on the hunt thataway it come to me that maybe my motives in borrowing the critter had been misunderstood so I made a break to escape.” Carver leaned back in his chair and laughed, swayed by a mixture of irritation and relief. “Could you, by any off chance, prove that you were asleep in Caldwell yesterday and didn’t ride out till dark?” he asked. “Positively not,” Bart stated. “No one will ever know who entered that ex-house of yours by way of the window. My tracks are well covered.” “Which is unfortunate in this particular instance,” Carver remarked. “You’ve stepped into it up to the armpits. I had been wondering how to help you avoid serving ten years for something you did. Now I’m wondering if you won’t get twenty years for something you didn’t. Did you happen to hear of the little event up in Wharton?” “I’ve heard of the place,” said Bart. “But I thought it was against the rules for anything to ever happen there. What did?” Carver told him and Bart nodded as he listened. The black frown once more stamped his face. “And we know who it was,” Bart said. “But I hope they don’t get caught. Noll might get sent up for twenty years--which span of time I’d find tedious waiting for him to get out again. I’d hate awfully to shoot him in the courtroom or through the bars. My fancy runs toward killing him somewheres outdoors, so I better get started before he’s apprehended.” Carver knew that Bart meant exactly what his statement intimated. The breach in the Lassiter family was now irreparable but its operation might prove to be even more detrimental to Bart than the influence which his half-brothers had exercised over him in the old days when they had all trailed together.