Doc glanced at him, frowned, and went on. "Some things lead me to think one way; other things, other ways. It's complicated by Squint's disappearance."
Two-Spot assimulated the second shock with avidity. He was beginning to be glad that he was alive, and his brain was putting two and two together at top speed. His ears fairly ached for more, and he waited for the third. When there were two, there should always be a third, he hopefully assured himself.
Dave's face showed real surprise again and then marched to orders and revealed his sympathy and disapprobation. "Why, there won't be nobody safe!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean he's missin'?"
"He is. Have you seen him since the night they were all here?"
"No; I ain't."
"Sorrers an' calamities never come singly," said Two-Spot, energetically digging a match stick out of a crack.
"Mebby it was Squint," suggested Dave, "as captured you."
"Well, the evidence points that way, but it isn't reasonable," replied the Doc, going to a chair and sitting down. "Squint wasn't the sort of a man who would go out of his way to do anyone a favor, especially if it was for someone he did not like; and most especially if it involved a large element of risk. But this man had on Squint's slicker, rode Squint's horse and saddle, and even had Squint's gloves and gun."
"He must 'a' et Squint," suggested Two-Spot, spitting violently at the thought.
"Shut up, you!" said Dave, sternly. "But, Doc, he was shore petrified when he left here; an' what he had in his person would stay with him for a long time. He allus was economical in his drunks: he made 'em last quite a spell. Now, when a man's full of liquor he'll likely do anythin'—no tellin' what."