A sound, almost a laugh, broke from Thunder Bird’s lips. “I think—me—mebbe so you come. I see you on top train.”
Johnny disregarded the Indian’s words.
“Chief,” he said, “many, many years you not come to white man’s town. Why you come tonight?”
“No tell him that?”
“Gallup old friend with you, eh? You come, he tie you up—why you let him do that?”
Thunder Bird’s chin was resting upon his chest. “Huy!” he grunted. “Too old, me—too old.”
Johnny was not getting anywhere. “Chief,” he drawled, unpleasantly, “it was you that Traynor came to see.”
Thunder Bird turned his shrewd old eyes on the boy. “Mebbe,” he answered.
It was admission enough.
“So,” Johnny continued, “you know who kill him, too, eh?”