The stranger dumped the wallets out of the sombrero and put it on his head.
“It was a terrific storm, señores,” said the stranger softly. “It fairly blew my horse from under me, and at times I despaired of finishing my quest.”
“Señor, we do not understand,” said Ramon, pointing at the stripped Tiger.
“It is a short tale,” smiled the stranger. “I was a guest at this man’s house. It was miles from here. Not so far, perhaps, if one went as the crow flies, but there have been many twistings which made it long.
“This man had a wife, and but one bed. To me they gave the bed, because I was their guest. But I am not the kind of a man who deprives a woman; so I gave her the bed.
“This man did not know. I had much gold which he wanted. He thought that I was in that bed. That is the tale, señores. It was not nice.”
He turned and motioned to the Tiger. The rain still whipped in from the west, but he drove the Tiger out into it, while we crowded into the doorway. Swiftly the stranger uncoiled a rope and dropped a loop around the neck of the Tiger, and mounted his horse.
“Señor,” called Ramon, “we shall wonder much over this, and not know whom we shall mention in our prayers. Who art thou?”
And from out of the darkness, in the direction of the vanishing rider, came the words—
“Jefferson Tigard, señores; and thank you. Buenas noches.”