“’Cause I don’t trust them McGills a-tall. But Spur is white an’ ain’t the sort to have no truck with rustlers. Then, besides, he’s got money. An’ ain’t he goin’ to marry Dot Reed? So he ain’t goin’ to steal what will be hisn some day,” Shorty explained, as he deftly rolled a cigarette.
Their horses slid into a deep wash floored with boulders. After they had picked their way across and climbed the opposite bank, Allen started to ply Shorty with questions again.
“I hears Dot was goin’ to marry this Slivers person?” he said.
“Yeh, mebbe she was, but Slivers is wanted bad for two murders, among which is her old man, so I reckon she forgot him.”
“Mebbe she don’t believe he’s guilty,” Allen volunteered.
“Mebbe so. I sorta liked Slivers myself an’ never figgered him the sort of gent what would dry-gulch a man. Yeh, there’s somethin’ sorta funny about that too an’ I’m a-gettin’ plumb curious.”
Allen decided that Shorty was altogether too talkative for a man who had such a broad, curious streak. Under the present circumstances to have either was dangerous, but to have both was suicidal.
CHAPTER XXI
CONFERENCE WITH SLIVERS
He rode with Shorty a short distance farther and then announced that his gray had gone lame and that he intended to return to the ranch. Shorty gave a few brief directions as to the trail back to the ranch and then rode on alone. Allen waited until the glow of Shorty’s cigarette had faded in the faint light from the moon and then swung Princess about and headed across the plain almost due north to where he had left Slivers earlier that day. He put his horse into a long, space-devouring lope and headed straight toward the tall, wooded mountain that stood out against the starlit sky.
As he rode on and on, he tried to piece together the bits of information he had gathered. From Shorty’s talk he knew that if Spur were guilty, it was going to be hard to trap him, for Spur had covered his tracks well.