“No one, I tell you. The only reason they brought me was because I could fly the plane,” Arthur declared hotly.
“Who owns the other plane?” Cardow asked.
“What other plane?”
“Aw, Cardow, listen, this guy is always in the works—he butts in—and he’s always the one that gets away and some other guys hold the bag,” one of the men argued.
“Yeh. We come up here and find him, the two guys with him dead as a canned cod, and he says the platinum ain’t here. What the blazes did he do with it?”
“That bozo wasn’t talking through his hat when he told you he found it,” the men put in persistently.
“You shot the trapper—”
“But not Alonzo,” came the sharp interruption.
“No, but he started to fight with the trapper and the fellow knifed him. You can see by the wound if you’ve got sense enough to tell a gun hole from a blade,” Gordon shot back; then he turned to Cardow. “I don’t know what you mean by another plane—”
“Well, there’s one sitting pretty not a mile from here—crate flying,” the man roared at him.