"How did that fire start, son?" asked the other, looking dubiously at Lanky, who, however, shook his head vigorously as he replied:
"Not this time, Dad! It happened to be a man going by the name of Zeke—don't know the rest, because we didn't hear it mentioned."
"Zeke Spavin, I'd judge," put in Zander Forbes. "Was he a big brutish-looking fellow with a shiny bald top-piece?"
"Yes."
"Well, he belongs over with the Double Z outfit. Tell us what you've run across since we pulled out."
The story was soon told, and the boys found themselves praised for having handled a delicate situation so cleverly.
"What do you reckon, Zander," asked the curious and wondering Lanky, "that big gump had hidden down there in the cellar of the old hotel that he wanted burned forever from any prying eyes?"
The puncher squinted his eyes and frowned before giving his opinion.
"Course, I don't know for sure, and I wouldn't be bothered digging in the ashes of this shack just to satisfy my curiosity. But as Jerry here will remember, some years ago there was talk around this section to the effect that Zeke Spavin had made way with another puncher named Hick Davis."
"They was seen together jest before Hick he disappeared," Jerry took up the tale; "an' a heap of us allers did b'lieve Zeke an' his pal must hev hed words, went firin' mad, clinched, an' thet Hick he got his. Mebbe now Zeke, bein' clost to this hyah place, done buried his man in the cellar o' the hotel thar."