"Cow outfit?"
"Yup."
"That why yer ridin' a Circle J horse? An' why you snuck into the brush back yonder an' laid low while Pete, here, rode past a-singin' 'Big Foot Sal'?" The man's eyes were still upon him, and Purdy knew that he had been caught in his lie. He glanced toward the man called Pete, and recognized the leisurely rider of the afternoon. The man who had conducted him in laughed, and Purdy was surprised that the sound held a note of genuine amusement:
"An' is that why you cussed me an' Bill when we was keepin' cases on you comin' down the coulee, an' wound up by cussin' the whole world, an' invitin' us to string you up?"
Purdy was at loss for words. He felt the blood mounting to his face, and he cleared his throat uncertainly.
"D'you know who I am?" The squat man questioned.
Purdy shook his head.
"Grimshaw's my name—Cass Grimshaw."
"Cass Grimshaw! The—" Purdy stopped abruptly in confusion.
The other laughed shortly: "Go ahead an' say it. It won't hurt my feelin's none. I'm the party—Cass Grimshaw, the horse-thief."