“You’re right. Not even Belle Lorrigan’s buckboard could make it across that canyon on beyond. Say, speaking of the Lorrigans––” he hesitated, then plunged recklessly on. “I’m going to pass you some dope I’ve got on that outfit. The chances are I’m done for. The way my insides feel––and you do something for me, will you? If I cash in, you turn in this dope. We may as well ’tend to this business right now, before I tackle the job of riding.”
Lance stood looking down at him while he fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a small leather notebook and some papers.
“I’m a stock detective, see. My name’s Burt Brownlee. I was just about ready to turn in the dope and have the whole outfit pulled. Well, it’s all here. They been rustling right and left, see. But they’re cute––they’re damn cute. We been trying to work up the case on the outside, and it seemed like somebody in the Black Rim was sending 331 stock out, and so I’ve been working on this end. Now here’s the data. I followed ’em, and I’ve got the dope. I know now how they work it, and my evidence and this dope here, that can be verified later on when the time comes, will put the whole bunch over the road, see. They’re outlaws––always have been––but they won’t be by the time they get outa the pen.”
“You better keep that,” Lance cut in gruffly. “Man, that’s nothing you want to be gabbling to a stranger. Shut up, and let me put you on my horse.”
“No, I want to tell yuh,” Burt insisted with all the obstinacy of a man half crazy with pain and whisky. “I want to tell yuh, and I’m going to tell yuh! Get down here and listen. Here’s a map, and here’s the brands they worked, and here’s how they worked ’em. And here’s the dates.”
On one knee Lance kneeled and listened, his jaws set hard together. Fast as the man talked the thoughts of Lance flew ahead, snatched at the significance of every detail, every bit of evidence. Some things puzzled Burt Brownlee, but Lance knew the answer to the puzzle while Burt talked and talked. Finally he laid his hand over the finely traced maps that showed secret trails, unguessed, hidden little draws where stolen stock had been concealed, all the fine threads that would weave the net close around the Lorrigans.
“Here, put that stuff up. This is not getting you to a doctor, and this can wait. Put it up.”
“No, you take it. And if I don’t pull through, you turn it in. You keep it. I don’t want to be found dead with that dope on me––you can’t tell who might get hold of it.” He thrust the papers and the book eagerly into Lance’s unwilling hand.
“No-o, you can’t tell who might get hold of it,” Lance admitted, biting his lip. “Well, let me take your riding outfit off this horse and then we’ll go.”