Bart nodded, then suddenly gazed at Carver in surprise.
“But how did you know I’d met them?” he asked. “I didn’t have time to tell you back there where we changed mounts.”
“It wasn’t hard to guess,” Carver said.
“Then you must know Noll better than I do, if you guessed that,” said Bart. “I didn’t think the poison hound would shoot me down without a word.”
“What?” Carver asked. “Noll, you say! D’you mean he shot you?”
“No other,” Bart affirmed. “The four of them rode up on me before I knew they were anywheres within fifty miles.”
“What four?” Carver inquired.
“Milt, Noll and Freel,” Bart informed. “I don’t know who the fourth was. Didn’t hear his voice. I was afoot and looking for my horse when they came riding along. I couldn’t see who they were but Noll was talking to Freel and I knew their voices. They were riding in front. I asked ’em to raise another horse and save me a twenty-mile walk and they halted without a word at the sound of my voice. Then Noll shot. He cut down on me twice more after I hit the ground. One shot was close enough to fill my right ear full of sand. Milt jumped his horse against Noll’s, cussing him meanwhile, and they was off at a run before I could pick myself up.”
Carver was conscious of a vague sense of relief coupled with knowledge of previous deductions gone astray.
“Where were you yesterday?” he asked.