“I haven’t any,” replied Brick.
“No?” Santel wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. “No rifle? Huh! Yuh didn’t kill my horse with a six-gun?”
“I didn’t even shoot at your horse,” declared Brick.
“No?” Santel’s brows lifted slightly, and a grin twisted his lips. “Well, somebody did, sheriff. My horse is dead—neck broke.”
“Yeah?” Brick’s blue eyes squinted thoughtfully. “This must ’a’ been a three-handed game, Santel. Just what are yuh doin’ over here?”
“Just lookin’. No law against lookin’ around, is there?”
Brick grinned and handed Santel his gun.
“Not a bit.”
“Thanks,” Santel holstered his gun. “What was it all about?”
Brick shook his head. He was as much in the dark as Santel. He told Santel what he had seen, but he did not say that he was of the opinion that the shots were fired by a meat-thief.