Teeters received the announcement with equanimity, so he continued:
“Along about two o’clock this afternoon I got an idea that nigh knocked me over. I bedded my sheep early and took a chance on leavin’ them, seein’ as it was on her account I wanted to talk to you. You’re a friend of her'n, ain’t you?”
“To the end of the road,” Teeters replied soberly.
Bowers nodded.
“So somebody told me. Are you goin’ to town anyways soon?”
“To-morrow.”
“Good! Will you take a message to Lingle?”
Teeters assented.
“Tell him for me that the night of the murder there was a onery breed-lookin’ feller that smelt like a piece of Injun-tanned buckskin a settin’ in Doc Fussel’s drug store. He acted oneasy, as I come to think it over, and he went out jest before the killin’. I never thought of it at the time, but he might have been the feller that done it.”
“I’ll tell Lingle, but I don’t think there’s anything in it.”