Len smiled bitterly.
“No, I didn’t, Nan. I told him where he could go, but he didn’t take my advice. Queer jigger, that Baggs person.”
“Has he a good reputation, Len?”
He looked at her queerly.
“Why do you ask that question, Nan?”
“Just curiosity, I suppose.”
“I suppose I’m prejudiced, Nan. Yuh see, he sent me to the penitentiary. The evidence wasn’t so awful. They found my hat in the bank, after a robbery. Kinda foolish for a man to leave his hat, after robbin’ a bank, wasn’t it?” He smiled wryly at her, as he eased himself in his saddle.
“But Baggs is a bitter devil,” he continued. “He said a lot of dirty things about me durin’ that trial, and he made the jury believe ’em. I didn’t have any friends on that jury, Nan; Baggs saw to that, and Charley Prentice was the star witness. He swore he recognised me, and the judge sent me up for five years.”
“Why did you come back here, Len?”
“Why?”