Pideau, in his different way, was quite as impossible to read. His expression never once changed after the first widening of the eyes which had occurred when the flash of lantern light had shown him the scarlet of the dead man’s stable-jacket.
Finally it was Pideau who broke the silence. He inclined his bullet head in a nod.
“Guess I take it right back,” he said amiably. “I didn’t reckon you’d the guts.” He drew a deep breath. “Gee, I am glad. Glad as hell. That puts him right out. We’re clear away with things. Annette’s shut of a scab p’liceman. An’ we——”
The Wolf caught and held the evil sparkle of the other’s eyes.
“Guess I’m not crazy, if you are,” he said sharply. “I found him just how you see him now, when I came along for those kegs o’ liquor.”
Pideau blinked.
“What sort of bluff did you pass him to get him wher’ you needed him? Say, Wolf, you’re brighter than hell. You surely are. I didn’t reckon that way last night. I thought you’d weakened. I’d ought’ve known better. I guess it’s the sort of trick only you could work out. Oh, boy, I’m glad. We’re partners. Ther’s bin times when I reckoned I was mostly a choreman doin’ as you said. Well, I’m most ready to act that way all the time for a partner who ken put through a play like this. That’s surely so. We got to cache him way back to the end of the cave wher’ he ken freeze good. What you done with his broncho an’ saddle?”
“Nothing.”
The Wolf’s eyes were still smiling, but a deep flush had spread right up to his broad forehead.
“I haven’t seen ’em,” he went on, after a pause. “I don’t know a thing, an’ haven’t seen a thing till I found—this—lying right here the way you see it now.”