"Huh! You'll make that good before I get through with you. And I want
to tell you this, too, Mr. Keller. It doesn't make any hit with me that
you're one of those thieving nesters. Moreover, there's another charge
against you. In the Malpais country we hang rustlers. The boys claim to
have you cinched. We'll see."

"Who's that with Curly?" Pesky called out. "By Moses, it's a woman!"

"It is the Sanderson girl," Weaver said in surprise.

Keller swung round as if worked by a spring. The cow-puncher had told
the truth. Curly's companion was not only a woman, but _the_ woman--the
same slim, tanned creature who had flashed past him on a wild race for
safety, only a few minutes earlier.

All eyes were focused upon her. Weaver waited for her to speak. Instead,
Curly took up the word. He was smiling broadly, quite unaware of the
mine he was firing.

"I found this young lady up on the rock rim. Since we were rounding up,
I thought I'd bring her down."

"Good enough. Miss Sanderson, you've been where you could see if anyone
passed into the cañon. How about it? Anybody go up in last ten minutes?"

Phyllis moistened her dry lips and looked at the prisoner. "No," she
answered reluctantly.

Weaver wheeled on Keller, his eyes hard as jade. "That ties the rope