Newman glanced at Leon and saw there was one lie nailed, but he had become so accustomed to being caught that way that he hardly changed color. He thrust his hands into his pockets, looked up the road toward the lean-tos, and said:
“Well, you see one of our cows had strayed away and I was afraid she might not come up, so I went into the woods to find her.”
“And you thought that cow was of more use to the county than stopping the train, did you?”
“It was of more use to us, ’cause, you see, we wouldn’t have had any milk to put in our coffee.”
“And you have milk in your coffee every day, do you? That’s more than I have, and I have eight or nine cows on my place.”
“Well, can I have the mule? That’s what I want to know.”
“No, I don’t think you can.”
“You have given one to Tom Howe and never asked him what he was going to do with it,” said Newman, hotly.
“But I knew what Tom was going to do with his mule before I gave it to him. Whenever we get ready to go out and capture a train Tom will be on hand, and that’s more than I can say in regard to you.”
“Then you won’t give me the mule?”