"This man was not drunk," asserted the Doc in his best professional manner, "and he had not been drunk for over a week. His hand was as steady as mine, and he did not make a single false move. I'm sure it was not Squint; Big Tom cannot make up his mind; Wolf Forbes swears it was, but Wolf was no friend of his, as we all know. Some of the boys suggested the Double X, knowing the strong dislike some of that litter has for me. Three of the boys are over there now lookin' for tracks."
"What good will that do 'em?" demanded Dave. "A man has a right to make tracks on his own ranch, an' they're allus ridin' around over it. But, then, if they found tracks leadin' from th' Double X to yore place, or from th' Juniper trail to th' Double X, why, then you'd have somethin'."
"There are none of the first category," replied the Doc, "and there will be none of the second: I told you that this man rode Squint's horse, and any tracks on the Juniper trail could have been made while we rode over it together. We can't find where he got onto the horse, or where he got off of it; but it must have been in the river somewhere. He was a fiend for riding on rock—he knew this country like a book. We've tried trailing, but it got us nowhere. So, Dave, I rode up here to ask you a plain question: Who were in here last night between a quarter of nine and, say, a quarter after ten? You may save some innocent person from a lot of trouble."
"Well," said Dave, pursing his lips. "Th' poker gang was here. Two-Spot an' I was here. Jerry Poole came in to set his watch—that was just at nine-twenty. Nelson poked his head in th' door about ten minutes after Jerry, wriggled his fingers at me, cuss his impudence, an' disappeared. Where he went I don't know. I guess that's all."
Two-Spot gripped the broom convulsively and then slowly relaxed. The third shock had arrived. The problems of his sorely taxed brain were jammed by the sudden arrival of more. Never before had he heard Dave deliberately lie; and here the proprietor was lying coolly and perfectly, with trimmings to make it stick. In turn surprise, wonder, and satisfaction swept across his boiled countenance like driven clouds across the coppery sun. He gradually worked closer to the Doc and soon his stroke became longer and harder. When he began trying to sweep a tobacco stain out of the flooring the Doc suddenly leaped from his chair.
"What—the h—l do—you think—you're doing?" he coughed.
"Huh?" said Two-Spot, looking up.
"What do you mean, sweeping like that, over here?"
"I was only sweepin' where th' dirt was," answered Two-Spot.