"It'll make th' other feller limber gettin' out of th' way."
Two-Spot hurt his finger and quit. "Reckon Dave wants me," he observed.
"I'm shore I don't," grunted Johnny, beginning to reprime the shells.
"Do it yoreself, then!" snapped Two-Spot, going out. He looked carefully around and, going into the narrow space between the kitchen and the rear of the saloon, disappeared from sight.
Around in front of the Palace four punchers were dismounting. They were disgruntled, but in one way they felt relief. After a morning's search for tracks on the Double X, along its eastern line, they had given up the job and had started to Gunsight to carry out a task which they felt would require a great amount of tact to keep it from becoming a shambles. But on the way they had stopped at the Doc's and found that it would not be necessary to cross-question Johnny. There remained one further duty to perform and they decided to slake their thirsts before attempting it. Big Tom wanted information from those whom he felt would be able to give it, since they were directly benefited by the kidnapping of the Doc. He felt sure that the committee he had appointed were qualified to get it for him, especially if they had a proper amount of liquor before they started after it. Hence he had supplied them with the funds and told them that it was his treat. Carson and Dahlgren had fat blanket rolls behind their saddles; "Smitty" and Fraser, nothing but their usual paraphernalia.
They stamped in to the bar and lined up. To Dave's inquiry, they replied that their morning's work had been in vain, but boasted that the afternoon would not be wasted.
"We're goin' where th' information is," said Carson, "an' we're goin' to get it. If it comes easy, all right—but we're goin' to get it, savvy?"
"An' when we do get it, it will be forty feet of rope an' a sycamore tree for th' coyote that got rid of Squint an' kidnapped th' Doc," boasted Dahlgren.