“Why, of course; didn't he say anything?”
“He didn't get much chance,” muttered Jake. “What did he hide at?”
“Us.”
“You, begosh!”
“I guess so,” said Mart. “We took him for the ferry-man, and when he couldn't hear us—”
“What was he doin'?”
“Just riding along. And so I fired to signal him, and he flew into the door.”
“So you fired, and he flew into the door. Oh, h'm.” Jake continued to pack the second horse, attending carefully to the ropes. “I never knowed he was that weak in the upper story,” he said, in about five minutes. “Knew his brains was tenas, but didn't suspect he were that weak in the upper story. You're sure he didn't go in till he heerd your gun?”
“He'd taken a look and was going away,” said Mart.
“Now ain't some people jest odd! Now you follow me, and I'll tell you folks what I'd figured he'd been at. Billy Moon he lived in that cabin, yu' see. And he had his stuff there, yu, see, and run the ferry, and a kind of a store. He kept coffee and canned goods and star-plug and this and that to supply the prospectin' outfits that come acrosst on his ferry on the trail to the mines. Then a cloud-burst hits his boat and his job's spoiled on the river, and he quits for the mines, takin' his stuff along—do you follow me? But he hed to leave some, and he give me the key, and I was to send the balance after him next freight team that come along my way. Leander—that's him I was kickin'—he knowed about it, and he'll steal a hot stove he's that dumb. He knowed there was stuff here of Billy Moon's. Well, last night we hed some horses stray, and I says to him, 'Andy, you get up by daylight and find them.' And he gits. But by seven the horses come in all right of theirselves, and Mr. Leander he was missin'; and says I to myself, 'I'll ketch you, yu' blamed hobo.' And I thought I had ketched him, yu' see. Weren't that reasonable of me? Wouldn't any of you folks hev drawed that conclusion?” The man had fallen into a wheedling tone as he studied their faces. “Jest put yourselves in my place,” he said.