“And which side were you on?” Carver asked.
“I couldn’t hardly determine,” Bart confessed. “I was maybe just a trifle lit.”
“Being one of our leading lights in that respect,” said Carver, “I expect maybe you were.”
“As near as I can make out, I was on the side of the law,” Bart stated. “Leastways I was in the powder squad that wrecked the bridge and the sheriff headed the party. My participation was accidental. I saw Wellman and another man easing out of town and I trailed them, arriving just as they touched off the charge, so you might say I acted the rôle of the passive spectator. The whole town boiled out and we dispersed among the crowd. I was dead anxious to be lined up with law and order, but with the law on both sides I couldn’t quite make out which one was proper, so I flitted.”
“Any idea who led the fight against Mattison?” Carver asked.
“Not a guess—unless it was Freel,” Bart denied. “He’s Wellman’s head deputy and it might have been him—only I can’t someway picture Freel as indulging in a fracas where other folks will be shooting back at him.”
“There’s quite a bunch of boys in the bunk house,” Carver said. “Right after breakfast I’ll send over a bunch to help you start the house.”
“Right after breakfast I’ll be riding toward Caldwell,” said Bart. “In proportion to the way Oval Springs has growed, I’d judge that Caldwell would be bigger than London by now.”
“Caldwell has about a fourth the population she had three months ago,” Carver informed.
“I’d as leave see a town that’s shrunk as one that has growed,” Bart philosophically decided. “I’m not particular, and I’m bound to find it filled with new interests. Just two days; then I’ll be back.”