“Not just now. I—er—I want to get more evidence first, if I can. We can get them any time we want them.”
“But who is going to pay me for my trouble? I’ve got them warrants to serve right in my pocket, and––”
“I’ll fix that up with you,” answered the hotel man, in a whisper. “Come on. We can come back later.” And then the hotel man said something to the driver of the wagon. The latter merely nodded and got back to his seat. Jason Sparr climbed up beside him, and the constable slowly followed.
“I don’t understand––” went on the constable; but Jason Sparr merely pinched his arm, and he stopped short.
“Just remember, this ain’t settled yet!” cried the hotel-keeper, to Dave and Roger. “I’m going to look into it a bit deeper before I make a move, that’s all. I know some of you done it, and I’ll have you in prison for it yet, see if I don’t!” And he shook his head grimly; and then the covered 179 wagon was turned around, and the three men drove off in the direction of Oakdale.
“Oh, Dave, do you think they’ll come back?” cried Roger, when the men were out of hearing.
“There is no telling what they will do, Roger. But you can make up your mind to one thing—Sparr won’t come back until he has more evidence than he has at present.”
“But how can he get evidence? Surely you don’t think Phil and the others guilty, even if they did run away.”
“No, I think Phil and the others are as innocent as we are. But I can’t understand some things. Somebody used that dynamite and somebody wrote a letter to Sparr about us. The question is, Who was it?”
“Could it be Nat Poole?”