The colour crept up under Billy's bronzed cheek.
"It makes me feel good—to hear you say this to me," he said. "It's been a long job, but I drove things along the best I could. When things got stuck in the mud there was nothing to do but jump in and pull them out and get them started and moving, and I want you to know that Freme—since his sweetheart made him sober—and old man Hite did all they could. I could never have done it without them."
"I believe you, Billy," declared Thayor briskly. "You have done what
I knew you would. Ah, yes—you're right about those two good fellows,
Holt and Skinner. Their greeting to me this afternoon touched me
deeply. Why, even the old dog remembered me."
"Remembered you? Of course he did. Hite says the old dog has never got over your killing that buck."
"And the old dog, I suppose, still talks to him?" laughed Thayor.
"I've never known Hite to lie," replied Holcomb with a grin.
"And now tell me about poor Dinsmore. I have watched the papers but I have seen nothing of his arrest and so I suppose he is safe in Canada, or is he still about here?"
"I think he is still in hiding, sir," replied Holcomb in an evasive tone. The least said about Dinsmore the better—the better for Dinsmore. His safety was in being entirely forgotten.
"And you haven't seen him?"
"No, not since we began work."