"But I heard you tell Dakota no one had gone out—also I saw you start off right after your supper to join Dakota; you promised him to as we were driving in."
"Dear me! Did yu think yu wasn't intended to see an' hear all that? Ha! Ha!"
"But I don't understand."
"Shure yu don't! If yu did yu'd be back in town now.... An' I'm not goin' to tell yu, neither."
He got up, stretched, expectorated into the river, and sauntered away.
"Ta-ta!" he called back. "Take care o' yerself."
CHAPTER XIX
TWO PAIRS
Stamford folded his fishing-rod, threw his lunch strap over his shoulder, and started back for the house, forgetting the big sturgeon lying in the sun. His clothes were almost dry already with the warm rocks and sun. He had his first useful clue, and it reassured him. His guiding thought now was that Bean Slade knew the murderer he was after—and if Bean Slade, then the rest of the H-Lazy Z outfit. But how much or how little was Cockney Aikens involved?
He was surprised to find the Bulkeleys already returned to the ranch-house, though dinner was a couple of hours away. It delighted him—and also blotted from his mind the success of his afternoon's work. What he recalled was the scream Bean claimed to have heard. He wanted to verify or disprove that. With a refreshed pride in himself he determined that he would. He proposed a walk; the brilliance of the out-of-doors provided perpetual excuse in the West. Isabel's immediate reply was an anxious look at her brother and Mary.