"Barney, too?"

"Hmp! He's a horse of another color. Think we'll send him over the
plains."

"Why make two bites of a cherry, sir? He can't be guilty if I'm not,"
the released prisoner said.

"Did I say you weren't?" Inspector MacLean countered.

"Not worth the powder, is he, sir?" Tom insinuated nonchalantly.
"Rather a fathead, Barney is. If he's guilty, it's not as a principal.
You'd much better send me up."

The officer laughed behind the hand that stroked the mustache. "Do you
want to be judge and jury as well as prisoner, my lad?"

"Thought perhaps my uncle would understand the spirit of your message
better if Barney went along with me, Inspector." The brown eyes were
open and guileless.

MacLean studied the Montanan deliberately. He began to recognize
unusual qualities in this youth.

"Can't say I care for your friend Barney. He's a bad egg, or I miss my
guess."

"Not much taken with him myself. Thought if I'd get him to travel
south with me it might save you some trouble."