“Used as a goat by an older man. Filled up with liquor and left to take the blame for burning a house and shooting people, while the man who really did it sneaked back up here and laughed at you fellows. That could easily be done.”
A pause, while Ward watched him steadily.
“Sure, it could be done. But to git the kid clear it would have to be proved. Who’s the man?”
Douglas glanced behind him—up Snake Sanders’ road. The movement was involuntary, prompted by an instinct to make sure that nobody else was lurking and listening. But Ward’s shrewd eyes narrowed, and he nodded as if in complete understanding.
“I’m not saying,” Douglas replied, facing him again. “We’re just supposing, of course. But in that case, you couldn’t expect much help from me, even if I knew where the youngster was. As a matter of fact—if you are looking for such a fellow—I don’t know where he is. But, speaking of goats, here’s something that’s not ‘supposing’ at all: While I was away last night somebody entered my house and rammed a foot and a half of cold steel into a dummy I’d left in my bed. And I’m pretty sure that the mind back of that stab—though maybe not the hand that did the stabbing—was the same one that framed up that ‘supposed’ boy we’re talking about.”
Another pause.
“Uh-huh. And you’ve been up here to see about it, and your man wasn’t home. Well, we’re waitin’ for that same gentleman; been wantin’ to see him for quite awhile, but he’s a slippery cuss. When we do git hold of him—we’ve got a few questions to ask him. Glad you spoke that little piece of yours, Hampton. We’ll keep it in mind.”
“All right. If I see him before you do he may get mussed up considerably, so you’d better grab him soon. So long.”
“Wait a minute. Got any idea who swung that steel on the dummy—if it wasn’t the same gent?”
“Oh, yes. But that’s my business. So long.”