night," he admitted.

"Came pretty near losing him out of the cast, didn't we?"

"Might a-turned out that way if the stage manager had not remembered the
right cue in time."

Curly was looking straight into the eyes twinkling across the table at
him. Maloney knew that the young fellow was thanking him for having saved
his life. He nodded lightly, but his words still seemed to make a jest of
the situation.

"Enter the heroine. Spotlight. Sa-a-ved," he drawled.

The heart of the prisoner went out to this man who was reaching a hand to
him in his trouble. He had always known that Maloney was true and steady
as a snubbing post, but he had not looked for any kindness from him.

"Kite just got a telephone message from Saguache," the Bar Double M man
went on easily. "Your friends that bought the rustled stock didn't get
away with the goods. Seems they stumbled into a bunch of _rurales_
unexpected and had to pull their freight sudden. The boys from the ranch
happened along about then, claimed ownership and got possession."

"If the men bought the stock why didn't they stop and explain?" asked
Buck.

"That game of buying stolen cattle is worn threadbare. The _rurales_ and
the rangers have had their eye on those border flitters for quite some
time. So they figured it was safer to dust."

"Make their getaway?" Curly inquired as indifferently as he could. But in
spite of himself a note of eagerness crept into his voice. For if the men
had escaped that would be two less witnesses against him.

"Yep."

"Too bad. If they hadn't I could have proved by them I was not one of the
men who sold them the stock," Flandrau replied.

"Like hell you could," Buck snorted, then grinned at his prisoner in a
shamefaced way: "You're a good one, son."

"Luck has been breaking bad for me, but when things are explained----"

"It sure will take a lot of explaining to keep you out of the pen. You'll
have to be slicker than Dutch was."

Jake stuck his head in at the door. "Buck, you're needed to help with them
two-year-olds. The old man wants to have a talk with the rustler. Doc says
he may. Maloney, will you take him up to the house? I'll arrange to have
you relieved soon as I can."

Maloney had once ridden for the Circle C and was friendly with all the men
on the place. He nodded. "Sure."

A Mexican woman let them into the chamber where the wounded man lay. It
was a large sunny southeast room with French windows opening upon a long
p