I hauls the front end of that machine around again, and winds her up. If that front end hadn’t been against a rock my obituary would have been written right there in the dusty road, ’cause she’s wide open, with no brake set. She’s backing and filling when I hops aboard, and we begins our merry ride once more.
I rubs my heel on Chuck’s ear and yells:
“Chuck, you’re dead! Old man Whittaker shot yuh.”
“Tha’s good,” he replies. “Same to you and many of ’em.”
We runs slow-like to Paradise, and I bumps the front end of the machine into McFee’s corral to stop her. I gives Chuck an alcoholic anesthetic, and leaves him there. I ambles over to the town, and finds a crowd in front of Mike’s place. I moves up closer and hears the conversation.
“It was deplorable,” I hears old man Whittaker state, with tears in his voice. “I loved Chuck like he was my own son. It was a accident, Bill—just accidental. You don’t think I’d kill him with malice aforethought, do yuh, Bill?”
“We can tell better what yuh killed him with after we sees the re-mains,” replies Bill. “I can’t help jailing yuh, Whit. It’s the law. If you’re innocent, yuh ain’t got nothing to fear. I got Scenery Sims down there now, so yuh won’t get lonesome.”
“What did Scenery do?” asks the old man.
“Disturbed the peace. This place is law-abiding, if yuh asks me. Just for the looks of the thing we’ll take Doc Milliken along, while we gets your victim’s body. Where did yuh say this here dastardly deed was done?”
“It wasn’t dastardly!” whoops the old man. “It was accidental, I tell yuh! It happens near where the old pack-trail leaves the main road. You know where that is?”