"I don't know anything about that, Martin," snapped the sheriff. "All I know is, you got to come along with me,--peaceable or otherwise,--and I guess if you're half as smart as I think you are, you won't come otherwise. Here! Don't go back in that house, Hawk." "Well, I got to tell my daughter--" "We'll tell her. There's another man or two in there. Just tell 'em to step outside,--and leave their weapons behind 'em." "There ain't a livin' soul in thar, 'cept my daughter,--so he'p me God, sheriff," cried Hawk, his teeth beginning to chatter. The sheriff was close enough to see the look of terror and desperation in his eyes. "No use lyin', Hawk. You've got a man named Suggs stayin' with you. He ain't accused of anything, so he needn't be afraid to come out. Same applies to your daughter Moll. But I don't want anybody in there to take a shot at us the minute we turn our backs. Shake 'em out, Hawk." "I tell ye there ain't nobody here but me an' Moll,--an' she's sick. She can't come out. An'--an' you can't go in,--not unless you got a warrant to search my house. That's what the law sez,--an' you know it. I'll go along with you peaceable,--an' stand my trial fer sheep-stealin' like a man. Lemme get my hat an' coat, an' I'll come--" "I guess there's something queer about all this," interrupted the sheriff. The man beside him had just whispered something in his ear. "We'll take a look inside that cabin, law or no law, Hawk. Move up, boys!" he called out to the scattered men. "Keep your eyes skinned. If you ketch sight of a rifle ball comin' to'ards you,--dodge. And you, Martin, step outside here, where you won't be in the way. I'm going in there." Martin Hawk looked wildly about him. On all sides were men with rifles. There was no escape. His craven heart failed him, his knees gave way beneath him and an instant later he was grovelling in the mud at the sheriff's feet. "I didn't do it! I didn't do it! I swear to God I didn't. It was her. She done it,--Moll done it!" he squealed in abject terror. He was grabbed by strong hands and jerked to his feet. While others held him, the sheriff and several of the men rushed into the cabin. Off at the edge of the clearing stood Rachel Carter and Isaac Stain, watching the scene at the door. "One look will be enough," the woman had said tersely. "Twenty years will not have changed Simon Braley much. I will know him at sight." "You got to be sure, Mrs. Gwyn," muttered the hunter. "Ef you got the slightest doubt, say so." "I will, Isaac." "And ef you say it's him, fer sure an' no mistake, I'll foller him to the end of the world but what I git him." "If it is Simon Braley he will make a break for cover. He is not like that whimpering coward over yonder. And the sheriff will make no attempt to bring him down. There is no complaint against him. No one knows that he is Simon Braley."