It was an hour later when Grant and several horsemen arrived, and he
nodded as he glanced at the prisoner.
"I figured it was you. There's not another man on the prairie mean enough
for this kind of work," he said, pointing to the kerosene-can. "You didn't
even know enough to do it decently, and you're about the only American
who'd have let an old man tie his hands."
The prisoner winced perceptibly. "Well," he said hoarsely, glancing
towards the hayfork, rifle, and pistol, which still lay at Muller's feet,
"if you're astonished, look at the blamed Dutchman's armoury."
"I've one thing to ask you," Grant said sternly. "It's going to pay you to
be quite straight with me. Who hired you?"
There was defiance in the incendiary's eyes, but Grant was right in his
surmise that he was resolute only because that of the two fears which
oppressed him he preferred to bear the least.
"You can ask till you get sick of it, but you'll get nothing out of me,"
he said.
"Take him out," said Grant. "Put him on to the led horse. If you'll come
round to my place for breakfast, I'll be glad to see you, Muller."
"I come," said Muller. "Mit der franc tireur it is finish quicker, but
here in der Republic we reverence have for der law."