“I ran into a posse chasin’ a gang that robbed a stage on the way over here this noon,” Rathburn said presently.
Price’s interest quickened, but he made no sign. “They saw you?” he asked.
“Couldn’t help it,” Rathburn grumbled. “Took after me. I had to drop one of ’em with a bullet in the shoulder to slow ’em up in the long cañon over on the other side.”
“Know any of the gang?” Price asked.
“Met one. Threw down my gun on him. He told me Mike Eagen was runnin’ the works.”
Price nodded. “I reckon Mike’s been pullin’ quite a few stunts while you been away.”
“An’ I’ve been gettin’ the blame for ’em more’n likely,” said Rathburn in indignation.
Price nodded again. “Might be so,” he commented.
Rathburn looked up at him in understanding. “They’ll have me mixed up with this stage holdup,” he said earnestly. “From what I gathered they killed the driver, an’ they’ll say that was my part.”
“That’s the trouble, boy,” said the old miner. “If a fellow’s handy with his gun somebody’s sure to get jealous of him an’ make him draw. If he gets his man because he has to, he’s a killer. When he’s known as a killer he ain’t got a chance. You had to drop the two men you dropped aroun’ here, boy; but they ain’t forgettin’ it.”