The self-appointed committee for the execution of justice and the man from the Panhandle looked the prison photographs over blankly.  Between the hard, clean-cut face of their prisoner and those that looked at them from the photographs it was impossible to find any resemblance.  Duffield handed the prints back with puzzled chagrin.

“I guess you’re right, Steve.  But I’d like this gentleman to explain how come he to be riding the horse one of these miscreants stole from Maloney’s barn last night.”

Steve looked at the prisoner.  “It’s your spiel, friend,” he said.

“All right.  I’ll tell you some facts.  Just as I was coming down from the Roskruge range this mo’ning I was held up for my team.  One of these fellows—­ the one called Kinney—­ had started from Fort Lincoln on this roan here, but he was wounded and broke down.  There was some gun-play, and he gave me this scratch on the cheek.  The end of it was that he took my team and left me with his worn-out bronc.  I plugged on all day with the hawss till about three mebbe, then seeing it was all in I unsaddled and picketed.  I lay down and dropped asleep.  Next I knew the necktie-party was in session.”

“What time was it y’u met this fellow Kinney?” asked Long sharply.

“Must have been about nine or nine-thirty I judge.”

“And it’s five now.  That’s eight hours’ start, and four more before we can cut his trail on Roskruge.  By God, we’ve lost him!”

“Looks like,” agreed another ruefully.

“Make straight for the Arivaca cut-off and you ought to stand a show,” suggested Fraser.

“That’s right.  If we ride all night, might beat him to it” Each of the five contributed a word of agreement.

Five minutes later the Texan and the ranger watched a dust-cloud drifting to the south.  In it was hidden the posse disappearing over the hilltop.

Steve grinned.  “I hate to disappoint the boys.  They’re so plumb anxious.  But I reckon I’ll strike the telephone line and send word to Moreno for one of the rangers to cut out after Kinney.  Going my way, seh?”

“If you’re going mine.”

“I reckon I am.  And just to pass the time you might tell me the real story of that hold-up while we ride.”

“The real story?”

“Well, I don’t aim to doubt your word, but I reckon you forgot to tell some of it.”  He turned on the other his gay smile.  “For instance, seh, you ain’t asking me to believe that you handed over your rig to Kinney so peaceful and that he went away and clean forgot to unload from you that gun you pack.”

The eyes of the two met and looked into each other’s as clear and straight as Texas sunshine.  Slowly Neill’s relaxed into a smile.

“No, I won’t ask you to believe that.  I owe you something because you saved my life—­”

“Forget it,” commanded the lieutenant crisply.

“And I can’t do less than tell you the whole story.”