But his two subordinates jumped forward and made violent protest.  “Steady!” It was Yorke now who appealed for leniency—­“Go easy, Burke! for God’s sake!  You’ve handed him one good swipe—­if he get’s another like that he’ll be all in—­won’t be able to talk.  Let it go at that!”

The sergeant remained silent, breathing thickly and glaring at his prisoner with sinister, glittering eyes, and still retaining the latter’s wrist in his iron grip.  But eventually the force of Yorke’s reasoning prevailed with him.  Drawing out his hand-cuffs he snapped them on the man’s wrists and haled him roughly out of the bar into the hotel office.  The crowd, recovering somewhat from their scare, would have followed, but he curtly ordered them back and closed the door.

“Brophy!” He beckoned the angry, frightened hotel-proprietor forward.  “Is Bob Ingalls and Chuck Reed still in town?”

“Sure!” replied the latter, “They was both in here ’bout half an hour ago, anyways.”

Slavin turned to Yorke.  “Go yu an’ hunt up thim fellers an’ bring thim here!” he ordered.

“Ravin’—­clean bug-house! that’s what he is!” wailed Brophy.  “That bar o’ mine! oh, Lord!  Yu’ll git it soaked to yu’ this time, Windy, an’ don’t yu’ furgit it!”

The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord’s revilings.  Slumped down in a chair he had relapsed into a sort of sulky stupor, though he cringed visibly whenever Slavin bent on him his thoughtful, sinister gaze.

Presently Yorke returned, bringing with him two respectable-looking men, apparently ranchers, from their appearance.

Slavin nodded familiarly to them.  “Ingalls!” he addressed one of them “I’m given tu undhershtand that yuh an’ Chuck Reed there tuk charge av this feller—­” he indicated the prisoner—­“last night, whin he had that racket wid Larry Blake in th’ bar?  Fwhat was they rowin’ over?”

“That hawss o’ Blake’s mostly,” was Ingalls’ laconic answer.  “Course they was slingin’ everythin’ else they could dig down an’ drag up, too.”  He chewed thoughtfully a moment, “We had some time with ’em,” he added.

“Shore did!” struck in Reed.  “We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to beat it home—­which he did—­an’ then we got Windy up to bed an’ stayed with him nigh all night.”

Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively.  “Yuh can vouch for this, tu, Billy?  He’s bin in yu’re place iver since th’ throuble smarted?”

Brophy nodded.  “Yes! d——­n him!  I wish he had got out before this bizness started.  Yes! he’s bin here right along, Sarjint! why?—­what’s up?”

Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment.  Silently awhile he gazed at the three wondering faces.  “Now, I’ll tell yez!” he said slowly.  And briefly he informed them of the murder—­omitting all detail of the clues obtained later.  They listened with wide eyes and broke out into startled exclamations.  The prisoner struggled up from the chair, his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment.  Redmond shoved him back again.