looking at him with curious contempt now and then, and one or two spoke casually to him, as if to find out what sort of a noise he would make.
Barrett thought that he understood the attitude of the men. His position among them was similar to that of a boy who has been led into the schoolroom by his mother, and formally presented to the teacher. He had felt all along that it was a mistake for Nearing to lead him out that way, and pass him on from hand to hand.
The more Barrett reflected on this, and looked back in review of Nearing's conduct of his case from the beginning, the more resentful of it he grew. It was a case of meditated coddling, a plan of Nearing's to belittle him and make life intolerable for him on the range. There was a reason, and a big one, somewhere in the secrets of that tottering enterprise, for Nearing's keenness to discourage him, sicken him with humiliation, drive him away. What was it? Was Nearing robbing the stockholders himself and pocketing the proceeds? Was all this plaint of rustlers but a pretense?
The outstanding event of the day would seem to answer this question with positive denial. There were rustlers, bold, contemptuous of the keepers of the herds, who came to the very door of this outpost and drove away cattle. Even now the horse wrangler was coming up the canyon with the body of the dead thief in his wagon. Nearing had dispatched this camp menial on the scavenging errand shortly after their arrival. The man had gone under protest, reluctantly, afraid, a lantern swung on the end of his wagon tongue.
