The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eager questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing could be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for the story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents, delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and unasked, should venture--Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable. He allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray himself.
"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford--up South Rainbow way?"
"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his guests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't----"
"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. He detailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he run away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"
"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only half convinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"
"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow. The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we four--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you know--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out early--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had a spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the ridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to make a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."