For several moments Tanglefoot said nothing, but continued to gaze at his prize.
“Caught!” he cried. “Nobody whoever done Timon Moss a wrong ever got away in the end. It war fun to bust the whisky-kegs, but the laugh will be on the other side of the face afore the game is played cl'ar out. Say, whar's that j'inted individual who did most of the breaking, my delicate child?”
“I do not know where he is.”
“Gone off, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Alone? I heerd a great deal o' shootin' while I war coming hyar. Who did it.”
“Midnight Jack.”
Gopher Gid peered eagerly into Tanglefoot's face to note the effect of his reply.
The whisky-smuggler started a little—that was all.
“Whar is he now?”