“Luck with you,” we replied, waving our hands in friendly salute as we rode away, still to the south.
Whether they ever found out the truth I do not know, for I never saw or heard of either again.
We continued our journey in silence for some time. Whitestone looked melancholy.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
“It was too easy,” he replied. “I always pity fools.”
He lighted his pipe and sought consolation.