ely. "That was a narrow
squeak--now, wasn't it? For I found that Ben Nyland didn't brand them
cattle at all--it was another man, living down the basin. That nester
near Colby's. He done it. But he sloped before we could get a rope on
him. Had a grudge against Nyland, I reckon. Sorry it happened."

Thus he attempted to smooth the matter over. But he saw that Mary did
not believe him, and his grin grew broader.

"Where's brother Will this mornin', Mary?" he said.

Sanderson appeared in the doorway behind Mary.

"You could see him if you was half lookin'," he said slowly.

"So I could," guffawed Dale. "But if there's a pretty girl around----"

"You come here on business, Dale?" interrupted Sanderson. "Because if
you did," he went on before Dale could answer, "I'd be glad to get it
over."

"Meanin' that you don't want me to be hangin' around here no longer
than is necessary, eh?" said Dale.

"You've said a heap," drawled Sanderson.

"Well, it won't take a long time," Dale returned. "It's just this.
I've got word from Las Vegas that you've swore to an affidavit sayin'
that you're Will Bransford. That's all right--I ain't got nothin' to
say about that. But there's a law about brands.

"Your dad registered his brand--the Double A. But that don't let you
out. Accordin' to the law you've got to do your registerin' same as
though the brand had never been registered before. Bein' the only law
around here--me bein' a deputy sheriff--I've got to look out for that
end of it.

"An' so, if you'll just sign this here blank, with your name and
address, specifyin' your brand, why, we'll call it all settled."

And he held out a legal-looking paper toward Sanderson.

Sanderson's lips straightened, for as his eyes met Dale's he saw the
latter's glint with a cold cunning. For an instant Sanderson
meditated, refusing to accept the paper, divining that Dale was
concealing his real purpose; but glancing sidewise he caught a swift
wink from Owen, who had drawn near and was standing beside a porch
column. And he saw Owen distinctly jerk his head toward the house.

Sanderson stepped forward and took the paper from Dale's hand. Then he
abruptly strode toward the house, telling Dale to wait.

Sanderson halted in the middle of the sitting-room as Owen entered the
room through, a rear door. Barney Owen was grinning.

"Wants your signature, does he?" said Owen. He whispered rapidly to
Sanderson, and the latter's f