“Sure—we both see him,” Doc replied. “They sent for me when he was shot, but when I reached the ranch Spur tol’ me he was dead. I was goin’ to look at him, but Spur says I couldn’t do no good an’ for me to tend to Dot.”
“Then yuh didn’t see him?” Allen asked sharply, with a touch of acute disappointment in his voice.
“Yeh, I did. Me an’ Bill, here, was his oldest friends, so we sneaked in to sorta say good-by all by ourselves, late that night,” Doc said sadly.
“An’ I’m bettin’ yuh both was mad when yuh see how he was shot to pieces.”
“We sure swore loud and plenty,” McAllister growled.
Doc Hollis stared at the outlaw, and then took two quick steps toward him.
“Most folks don’t know he was shot up bad. How’d yuh know?” he asked, as a quick suspicion entered his mind.
Allen’s face held a hopeless expression as he met the angry eyes of the older man.
“Yuh thinkin’, ’cause I claims to be a friend of Slivers—an’ as Spur says he was there, mebbe I was, too, when the old man got his?” he asked sarcastically. “That sorta proves yuh can think, but if yuh’ll recollect that Spur is now Dot’s guardian, mebbe yuh’ll see what I see.”
Doc Hollis looked from Allen to Bill McAllister. His face wore a puzzled expression. Slowly this changed to one of startled wonder and then to furious anger.