"It's a fact!" declared Clip angrily. "You can go and see the place. Look at that bag!" He whirled and pointed to the dingy canvas sack on the desk. "There's sand on it yet."
"It won't do, Clip," said McKibben. "Don't it strike you as mighty odd you should dig up just the amount of money that was taken from Fresnay, and all of the same kind? But, assuming that you did dig it up, who put the gold in the ground? And what had Pima Pete to do with it?"
"I can't tell you that," answered Clipperton stiffly.
Matt went over to Clip and whispered to him.
"For heaven's sake, Clip, don't you understand what this means to you? Make a clean breast of everything!"
"I'll go to prison for life first! You know how I've been treated here, and you know what would be said of me if they knew all about Pima Pete."
"Anyhow," pleaded Matt, "tell the sheriff it was Dangerfield's money. Dangerfield himself will bear you out in that."
"They wouldn't believe me, and they wouldn't believe Dangerfield. I'll tell them that much, though. Don't you forget! If you're a friend of mine you'll say nothing."
"Not to Chub?"