"But the point is," said the tall cowpuncher, "that you've given up before you're beaten."
Riley Sinclair's words brought a flash from Arizona, a sudden lifting of the head, as if he had not before thought of hoping. Then he began to slump back into his former position, without a reply. Sinclair followed his opening advantage at once.
"What you in for?"
"Murder!"
"Great guns! Of whom?"
"Sandersen."
It brought Sinclair stiffly to his feet. Sandersen! His trail was ended; Hal was avenged at last!
"And you done it? Fatty, you took that job out of my hands. I'm thanking you. Besides, it ain't nothing to be downhearted about. Sandersen was a skunk. Can they prove it on you?"
The need to talk overwhelmed Arizona. It burst out of him, not to Sinclair, but rather at him. His shifting eyes made sure that no one was near.
"Kern is going to send south for the dope. I'm done for. They can hang me three times on what they'll learn, and—"