“I reckon you ain’t fooling me none,” said Allen slowly. “The evidence is dead against you.”
“What evidence?”
“Duncan saw you fixing Doubler, and Langford’s daughter met you coming from his cabin.”
“Who told you that?”
“Langford. He’s just brought some grub over.”
The silence that followed Allen’s words lasted long, and the sheriff fidgeted impatiently. When he again spoke there was the sharpness of intolerance in his voice.
“If talking to you was all I had to do, I might monkey around here all summer,” he said. “I’ve give you about eight hours to think this thing over, and that’s plenty long enough. I don’t like to get into any gun argument with you, because I know that somebody will get hurt. Why in hell don’t you surrender decently? I’m a friend of yours and you hadn’t ought to want to make any trouble for me. And them’s good boys that I’ve got over there and I wouldn’t want to see any of them perforated. And I’d hate like blazes to have to put you out of business. Why don’t you act decent and come out like a man?”
“Go and look at the corpse,” insisted Dakota.
“There’ll be plenty of time to look at the corpse after you’re took.”
There was no answer. Allen sighed regretfully. “Well,” he said presently, “I’ve done what I could. From now on, I’m looking for you.”