"What's the game?" demanded Hare.
"A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope," replied John Caldwell. The
low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again.
"There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them
hanged."
"Pick them out!" A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in
John Caldwell's hard face.
Hare eyed the prisoners.
"Nebraska, step out here," said he.
"I reckon you're mistaken," replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently
on Hare. "I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to
cheat the man you mean."
"I saw you untie the girl's hands."
"You did? Well, d--n me!"
"Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You
weren't cut out for a thief."
"Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin'
for you, stranger, an' prove it."
"Cut him loose from the others," said Hare. He scrutinized the line of
rustlers. Several were masked in black. "Take off those masks!"
"No! Those men go to their graves masked." Again the strange twinge of
pain crossed John Caldwell's face.
"Ah, I see," exclaimed Hare.
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