“The professor must be wandering in his mind,” commented Judge.
“With brains enough left to dress himself and crawl through a window? He may be wandering, Judge—but not in his mind.”
Henry slid out of bed and lighted the lamp. Judge sat up in amazement and saw the sheriff starting to dress. Judge ran his bony fingers through his mop of tousled hair, shut his eyes tightly and then looked at Henry again. The fat man was struggling with a rather tight pair of overalls.
“You must have been hit rather hard, too, Henry,” said Judge.
“I suspect that some of my sense of balance has been disrupted,” agreed Henry, “but I am normal again—thank you. Get into your clothes, Judge; and I would advise boots, instead of those disreputable slippers you have been wearing. And chaps, too, if you do not mind.”
“Have you gone mad?” gasped Judge. “We haven’t been to sleep yet.”
“Oh, get dressed and do not quibble. You must realize that a man died in the depths of Lobo Canyon tonight, and, in spite of Mr. Pelly’s diagnosis, we are still the peace officers of Wild Horse Valley, and it is our duty to remove that body.”
“Heavens above!” snorted Judge. “You mean—no, you can’t mean that, Henry— at this time of the night!”
“Explain, Judge.”
“Well, I—Henry, you do not intend going into Lobo Canyon at this ungodly hour —or do you?”