Her testimony was damaging--she knew it, and her sympathies were with the young man with the rope around his neck.
Sanderson knew nothing of the motives that were actuating the people of this little drama, but he was entirely conscious of the visible forces that were at work.
Plainly, the big man had accused the captive of stealing cattle; he had brought the supposed culprit to face the owner of the stolen stock; he had constituted himself judge and jury, and was determined to hang the young man.
The two men with the big man were noncommittal.

The pale, undersized man was a mere onlooker whose sympathies were with the accused.

Miss Bransford would have been quite willing to have this young man escape punishment, but she could not deny that the cattle in question belonged to her.
Sanderson was in doubt about the other young woman, though obviously she was closely related to him--a wife, or sister--perhaps a sweetheart.
Sanderson studied the young man's face, comparing it with the big man's, and his lips stiffened.

He backed Streak slightly and swung crosswise in the saddle, intense interest seizing him.
The big man grinned, first at Miss Bransford, and then at the other girl.
"I reckon that settles it," he said.

"There don't seem to be nothin' more to it.