"And forgets his hat," interrupted Houck.
"Nope. He was wearin' a hat the last I seen of him."
"And ridin' a buckskin cayuse, eh? Now Cotton says it was a blue roan."
Andy laughed. "That hombre Cotton's got mighty poor eyesight. Why, he couldn't see good enough to ketch up his own hoss. Pete told me Cotton set out for home afoot. I didn't see him, but I'd take Pete's word against Cotton's any time."
"Mebby you think we're takin' your word about Young Pete—and the shootin'??
"Why not?"
"We can make you talk!" threatened Simpson.
"I reckon you could," said Andy easily. "Four to one—and my gun hangin' over there on the saddle-horn. But suppose you did? How are you goin' to' know I'll talk straight or lie to you? You ain't throwed any big scare into me yet"—and Andy stooped and caught up his hat and thrust his finger through the hole in the crown—"because I ain't done nothin' to be scared about. I ain't shot nobody and I ain't seen nobody get shot. Cotton could 'a' told you that."
"That's right," asserted Houck reluctantly. "White here had nothin' to do with the shootin'. Cotton said that. We lost some time trailin' you"—Houck turned to Andy—"but we don't aim to lose any more. Which way did young Pete ride?"
Andy laughed. "You would say I lied if I told you. But I'm goin' to tell you straight. Young Pete took the old Ranger Trail south, through the timber. And I want to tell you gentlemen he was goin' like hell a-smokin' when I seen him last. Mebby you don't believe that? And there's somethin' else—that old Ranger Trail forks three times this side of Cienegas—and she forks twice afore she crosses the line. She's a dim trail when she's doin' her best acrost the rocks, and they's places in her where she's as blind as a dead ox. Water is as scarce as cow-punchers at a camp-meetin' and they ain't no feed this side of Showdown. And Showdown never tore its shirt tryin' to be polite to strangers. I been there. 'Course, when it comes to rustlers and cardsharps and killers—but you fellas know how that is. I—"