"Well," said McKibben, "I know you've got nerve, and I know that when you make up your mind to a thing you hang to it tighter than a dog to a bone. But you listen to me Matt: If you spend all your money for Clipperton you'll be sorry."
"Anyhow, you're going to write to Leavenworth?" asked Matt.
"I'll do that at once."
That was about all Matt had gained by his interview in the sheriff's office. He and Chub went out, and Chub heaved a long breath as they went down the court-house steps.
"There's a hen on somewhere, Matt," said Chub. "I'm pretty thick-headed, but I can see that. What was you whisperin' to Clip about?"
"I was trying to get him to make a clean breast of everything," replied Matt gloomily.
"And he wouldn't?"
"No; but he said I could let you in on all I know, providing you'd agree to keep it to yourself."
"Sure I'll keep it to myself. That's all to the good. Fire away."