“I’m gittin’ too old for this kind of work. That feller chased me around till my tongue was hangin’ out so fur I stepped on it. I tell you he was—”
“How did you do it?”
Thorn looked at him with a scowl. “Well, I never used a club on a man yit,” he said.
“Where did it happen at?”
“Up there at his place. He’d been chasin’ me for two days, and when he went back—after grub, I reckon—I doubled on him. Just as he went in the door I got him. I left him with his damn feet stickin’ out like a shoemaker’s sign.”
“How fur was you off from him, Mark?”
“Fifty yards, more ’r less.”
“Did you go over to him to see if he was finished, or just creased?”
“I never creased a man in my life!” Thorn was indignant over the imputation.
Chadron shook his head, in doubt, in discredit, in gloomy disbelief.