"I don't know whether or not you-all understand the position I take about that Whittaker case," said Mead. "I reckon likely you think I break jail every time you get me in just out of pure cussedness. But I don't. I do it because I think you-all haven't any reason but pure cussedness for puttin' me in. I consider that you haven't any right to arrest me on mere suspicion, and I shall keep on resistin' arrest and breakin' jail just as long as you fellows keep on tryin' to run me in without any proof against me. Why, you don't even know that Will Whittaker's dead! Now, Mr. Wellesly, I'll make a bargain with you." Mead's eyes were fastened on Wellesly's with an intent look which gripped the invalid's attention. Wellesly's eyelids suddenly half closed and between them flashed out the strips of pale, brilliant gray. "All right, go on. I must hear it before I assent." "It is this: I won't ask you to have any evidence that I had a hand in the killing of Will Whittaker, if he is dead. But whenever you can prove that he is dead and show that he died by violence, I give you my word, and my friends here, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, will add theirs to mine, I give you my word that I'll submit quietly to arrest and will stand trial for his murder. But unless you can do that I shall keep on fightin' you till kingdom come!" Tuttle and Ellhorn nodded. "He's right!" they exclaimed. "We'll stick to what he says." Wellesly considered Mead's challenge in silence for a moment. He was wondering whether this was the courage of innocence or whether it was mere bluffing audacity. It was very like the former, but he decided that it must be the latter, because he was quite convinced that Mead had killed Whittaker. "Of course," he said, "after what you have done for me here--you have saved my life and showed me the greatest kindness and generosity--I can not allow any further proceedings to be taken against you, if I can prevent them, which is not--" "Oh, hang all that!" Mead interrupted with a gesture of irritation. "I don't expect and don't want anything we have done just now to make any difference with your feelings toward me, or change the policy of the Fillmore Cattle Company. And I don't want it to influence the actions of the Republicans in Las Plumas, either. We didn't do it for that purpose, and I'm not buying protection for myself that way. What we did was the barest humanity." "No, Mr. Wellesly," Nick Ellhorn broke in, "you needn't have it on your conscience that you must be grateful to us, because if we hadn't saved you the Republicans over in Plumas would have said that we killed you. We sure had to save you to save our own skins." There was a general laugh at this, and Mead added quietly: "As it was my men who were to blame for your condition, I suppose I would have been, in a way, responsible." Tuttle rose and began walking about uneasily. "When are we goin' to start after 'em, Nick?" he said. "I'm ready whenever you are."