“It’s customary, isn’t it, to report an assault and an attempted theft?”
“Not in Rocking Horse it isn’t,” Walz said shortly. “A police investigation here wouldn’t mean a thing. Far as I’m concerned, Stony will have to do the reporting, if any is done.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Oh, he’ll snap out of it,” Walz said carelessly. “That old boy has a constitution like iron.”
“I hope you’re right. Just what can you tell us about Stony?”
Walz edged toward the door. Plainly, he wanted to put an end to the questions. But he replied: “I told you about all I know. He drifted into this town like a tumbleweed some years ago. I gave him a job—his board and room in return for looking after the cabins.”
“He never told you much about himself?” Ken inquired.
“Oh, he talked enough, but always he handed out lies. The old coot was suspicious by nature. Why, he became obsessed with the idea I wanted to rob him of his gold and the map!”
“He did show us a nugget last night,” War said. “A big one.”
“Oh, that!”