Whizzer’s forehead puckered, as he stared at Brick.
“I seen two mans in house. One man got somethin’ on his face, like stage-robber. Woman and baby there.”
“One man was masked, eh? It wasn’t the Indian man, was it?”
Whizzer shook his head and looked around quickly.
“Don’tcha be afraid of him,” said Brick. “He’s dead.”
“He hit me,” said Whizzer simply. “They make me stay in the mine and I can’t git out.”
He began crying softly, still terrified at what he had experienced in the few days. Brick swore softly and hugged the youngster.
“Don’t cry, buddy,” he said. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to hurt yuh ag’in, y’betcha.”
They swung their horses around and galloped away toward town.
“Do yuh think Santel done it, Brick?” queried Silent, as they swept along the grade.