"You say he was on Squint's cayuse, wearin' Squint's slicker, an' usin' Squint's gun?" asked Johnny. "Then where was Squint? A man don't just drop things like that without knowin' it. What was that Two-Spot was tryin' to tell me?"
The Doc explained the matter and finished by saying that he felt sure that it had not been the missing puncher who had visited him.
"I don't think so, neither," asserted Johnny. "He'd be a fool to go like that. No, sir, I'll bet it wasn't Squint—but, wait a minute! If he counted on leavin' th' country right after, why, he might a' done it, at that. If it wasn't Squint, then where was he?"
"Sleepin' off his liquor," said Dave. "Why, that's it! While he slept somebody took his outfit an' kidnapped th' Doc. H—l, it may all be a joke!"
"You wouldn't think so if you observed that man as I did," replied the Doc. "He was in deadly earnest. I could feel it."
"Well, there's two ways to start at it," said Johnny, ordering drinks all around, including Two-Spot. "He had a grudge ag'in' you, an' he was extra friendly to th' SV. Run back in yore mem'ry for somebody that hates you enough to want to get square. If that don't work, then hunt for th' feller that likes th' SV. Anybody 'round here that's sweet on that Arnold gal, that you knows of?"
"No; not that we know of," answered the Doc. "Big Tom was the last one who called there; but he quit, quite some time ago."
"Got throwed so hard he still aches," gloated Two-Spot.
"Well, I can't help you," said Johnny. "I don't know anythin' about th' people around here. An', bein' a stranger, an' likely to be suspected of any orphaned devilment, I'm shore glad I looked in here, last night. But I ain't worryin' about Squint," he deprecated. "He's an old hand at takin' care of hisself, if I'm any judge. He'll turn up with a headache, an' yell fit to bust for his saddle, an' gun."
"I hope so," said Dave. He turned to the Doc. "Did you fix up th' laig?"