"A-all right," responded his stuttering friend.
"But," asked Billy, "if Doug recovers, and should think as you did at first, that Rita fired the shot?"
"Sa-sa-say, B-Billy Little, you couldn't make it another t-t-twenty later on for that ere job about the st-store, could ye?"
"I think I can," returned Billy.
"Well, then, Doug'll g-get it straight—never you f-f-fear. He was crazy drunk and ha-ha-half blind with blood where Dic knocked him, and he didn't know who f-f-fired the shot."
"But suppose he should know?"
"B-but he won't know, I-I tell ye. I-I t-trust you; c-can't you trust Patsy? I-I'm not as big a f-fool as I look. I-I let p-people think I'm a fool because when p-people think you're a f-fool, it's lots easier t-t-to work 'em. See?"
Billy left Doug hovering between life and death, and hurried back to Dic. "Patsy says you took the gun from where it was leaning against the tree and shot Hill. I suppose he doesn't know exactly how it did happen. I told him you said that was the way of it, and he assents. He says Doug doesn't know who fired the shot. We shall be able to leave Rita entirely out of the case, and you may, with perfect safety, enter a plea of self-defence."
Dic breathed a sigh of relief and longed to thank Billy, but dared not, and the old friend rode homeward unthanked but highly satisfied.