Hawkins, a deputy sheriff, had come out on the veranda and was walking in the scout’s direction.
“Howdy, Hawkins,” said the scout. “What can I do for you?”
“The sher’f would like ter see ye at his office in the jail. Can ye come right over?”
“On the jump. What’s the business about?”
“About the McGowan bullion robberies.”
The scout was already on his feet, but at that he hesitated.
“I told McGowan,” said he, “that I hadn’t time to bother with that matter.”
“I know, an’ it ain’t expected ye’ll bother with it. All you’re wanted fer is ter establish the identity o’ one o’ the thieves that has jest been brought in.”
“A red thief?”
“No, a white ’un.”