“Say, spill what this here is about,” Snoots begged.
“I ain’t kiddin’ yuh—I don’t know. The twins is runnin’ this show,” Slivers replied.
Slivers briefly told them how he had been framed and that, while they did not have sufficient evidence to prove it legally, they were positive that Spur Treadwell was the instigator of the plot.
“Sure he was—’cause of Dot. Where we goin’ now?”
“I dunno. Yuh got to ast the twins; they’re runnin’ this show,” Slivers said, grinning at them.
“Them McGills!”
“Not any! Jim an’ Jack Allen.”
The two swung about and stared at the famous sheriff and the even more famous outlaw. Then, moved by a common impulse, they drifted toward the fire to have a closer look.
“I ain’t sayin’ Spur an’ Boston didn’t rustle Double R cows, but how did they get ’em out?” Bill McAllister asked. “Disposin’ of several thousan’ cows is a darned hard job.”
Allen took a large piece of rawhide from a package and laid it out where the light from the fire would play on it. They all leaned forward and stared. It had been taken from a Crossbar Double A cow. They frowned and looked questioningly at Allen, who only grinned at them.