"Do you think he's the Rider?" Gale exclaimed.
"No, but he may know who the Rider is—there are plenty of men who'd do the job for a round sum down."
"But how about Eustace?"
"Oh, well, that would be a bit of luck to get him to join. They may have thrown him over when he was no more use to them, and then there may have been a row and somebody's gun may have gone off a bit too soon. You never know. But anyhow, I'm with you when you say things look as if they are getting too much for the police to handle."
"That's all very fine, Davy, but what I'd like to know is why the old man got shot? Did he pay a man to do that?"
"Of course he didn't," Davy exclaimed. "I had a yarn with one of the troopers about that. He told me what the sub-inspector said in his report. Maybe that's something you don't know."
It was, and the attention of the group concentrated on Davy, much to his satisfaction.
"Go on, let's have the yarn," someone said impatiently, and there was a chorus of assent from the others.
"This is what happened," Davy went on. "The Rider and his mate—Eustace, as I believe—came into the hut to settle the sub-inspector. As a blind they put handcuffs on the old man and were going to do the same with Durham when he, finding himself cornered again, made a fight for it. One of the chaps fired, meaning to finish him, but missed and hit the old man instead. Then, in the fight, the lamp was upset and the place in a blaze. Durham got a crack on the head and staggered outside, and before the others could get the old man out of the place the troopers arrived, and they had to bolt to save their own skins. That is pretty much what Conlon told me was in the sub-inspector's report. It was after hearing it I suspected the old chap."