"Yes, there is, Dale," said Miss Bransford. "It is quite evident there
has been a mistake made. I am willing to believe Peggy Nyland when she
says Ben was asleep in the cabin all night--with her. At any rate, I
don't want any hanging over a few cattle. I want you to let Ben Nyland
go."

Dale wheeled and faced Miss Bransford. His face reddened angrily, but
he managed to smile.

"It's too late, Miss Bransford. The evidence is all in. There's got
to be rules to govern such cases as this. Because you own the steers
is no sign you've got a right to defeat the aims of justice. I'd like
mighty well to accommodate you, but I've got my duty to consider, an' I
can't let him off. Ben Nyland has got to hang, an' that's all there is
to it!"

There came a passionate outcry from Peggy Nyland; and then she had her
arms around her brother's neck, sobbing that she would never let him be
hanged.

Miss Bransford's eyes were blazing with rage and scorn as they
challenged Dale's. She walked close to him and said something in a low
tone to him, at which he answered, though less gruffly than before,
that it was "no use."

Miss Bransford looked around appealingly; first at the pale, anemic
little man with big eyes, who shifted his feet and looked
uncomfortable; then her gaze went to Sanderson who, resting his left
elbow on the pommel of the saddle, was watching her with squinting,