"A little after ten last night."
"And they didn't bring Clip in till early this morning?"
"No. Hogan watched Clip, and Leffingwell chased after Pete. Leffingwell couldn't use his horse—you know the lay of the ground out there beside the trail—so Leffingwell had to do his huntin' on foot. He used up several hours, I guess, but Pete got away from him."
"There's another point, Chub," said Matt. "How could Hogan and Leffingwell tell the man was Pete, if it was dark?"
"Leffingwell knows Pete pretty well. You see, Leffingwell comes from Prescott, an' that place used to be an old stamping-ground of the half-breed's. And then Leffingwell got close enough to Pete so he could see him. It was a clear night, and there was a good moon."
Matt knew, naturally, that Leffingwell had made no mistake.
"You say Clip's in jail?" inquired Matt, reaching for his cap.
"That's where they were taking him."
"Well, we'll get a permit from Mr. McKibben and go and have a talk with Clip. I guess the sheriff will be in his office now, on account of this, so we'll slide for the court-house. Come on."