“An’ they say yuh first fired him an’ then killed him to close his mouth.”
“Of course, Spur would spread that aroun’—he’s so darn complete,” Slivers answered.
“Yeh, it’s so darn complete that there’s sure a hole in it somewhere,” Allen said paradoxically. “Yuh got a real good friend in town?”
“Yeh, Doc Hollis—he’d swear I was innocent if I was guilty as hell. He’s courtin’ my ma,” Slivers ended with a faint smile.
“Well, I’m goin’. Yuh sit tight an’ don’t go off half cocked,” Allen warned.
He saddled Honeyboy and left Princess behind. He knew there was a risk in changing mounts, but this had to be taken, as Princess had been ridden far that day, and it would be necessary to ride fast if he wished to return to the ranch before daylight.
He had just finished rubbing the sweat marks off Honeyboy on his return to the ranch, and had just slipped into the bunk house, when the ranch began to waken.
As Allen stepped out of the cookhouse after breakfast that morning, his face was swathed in a flannel bandage. He saw that both the twins were watching him. He slipped through the bar of the corral and headed toward Bill McAllister, who was preparing to rope his mount for that day.
“Say, mister, can I have another cayuse to ride to-day?” Allen asked. He did not want the twins to see him mounted on a gray horse.
“Yeh, fork that roan mare,” McAllister said shortly, as he glanced shrewdly from beneath his shaggy eyebrows at the boy.