“No—he’s gone,” said Pelly. “Doctor Bogart went in to look at him, after we had left there last night—or this morning—and the professor had dressed and went out the window.”
“Lovely dove!” snorted Slim. “Let’s go to the office and find the jug—I need medical assistance.”
“Thank you,” said Pelly, “I do not need that stuff. I feel bad enough, as it is.”
Slim had a key to the office, and they located the supply. They were enjoying their third cupful, when Bob Stickler, manager of the Yellow Warrior, came into the office, looking for Henry.
“What was this about the accident on the grade last night?” he asked. “I’ve heard two or three versions.”
“What did yuh hear?” asked Frijole soberly. “We don’t want ours to be the same. Yuh see, we was there, and maybe we saw it all wrong.”
“Oh, I see—trying to make it sound funny, eh?”
“It wasn’t funny,” said Slim. “The Circle G team and wagon went into the canyon, along with Jud Bailey, who was drivin’. He came around a jack-knife bend too blamed fast, shoved us in against the wall, and went off the edge.”
“I see. Yes, I heard all that. How badly was the professor hurt?”
“Quien sabe? Doc put him to bed, but he dressed and sneaked out a winder.”